The Elven Princess
by daughterofdurinanddestiel
Summary: When Elrond sent his youngest daughter, Linwe, to the Woodland Realm to promote relations between Thranduil's kingdom and Imladris, no one ever expected a forbidden love to form.
1. Chapter 1

When Lindir came to the imposing gates of the Woodland Realm, he clutched the scroll in his hand and sighed. There was a reason that Lord Thranduil was never invited to White Council meetings, or even regular gatherings of the Elves. He was hotheaded and selfish, and quite insular. No one really liked dealing with him if they could help it, but Elrond had had a proposal he wanted Lindir to deliver. And he wanted Lindir to hang around to deliver back Thranduil's response.

What did I ever do to deserve this? Lindir wondered as he followed a guard Elf to the Elvenking's throne.

"This is very unexpected," was Thranduil's greeting to him. "Why has Elrond sent you to me? Did you have a lovers' quarrel?"

Lindir swore that, if it wouldn't make Elrond hate him, he'd smack that smug look right off of the blonde's face. "My Lord Elrond has a proposal for you, for both your kingdoms. He has asked me to deliver this message to you and record your response."

He walked up the imposing steps to reach the equally imposing throne and hand the imposing king the message. He knew what the scroll said, and he was sure that this had been a waste of time.

Thranduil read the scroll twice and then asked, "Why does he want to send Arwen here?"

"No, not Arwen. Lord Elrond has two sons and two daughters. Linwe Helyanwe is his youngest child, and she is just about the age of your Legolas," Lindir explained.

"Again, why does he want to send...Linwe...here, to my kingdom? 'Promote relations between Mirkwood and Imladris' is a bit odd if I am not sending my son to him," the king said.

"He believes that Linwe needs to experience life in the other Elven kingdoms. She is the one who will take his place as ruler of Imladris, as his other children have other destinies. His foresight has shown him that she should come here," Lindir said, finding himself very disconcerted by the Elvenking's sharp gaze. He was expecting a tongue-lashing from the Elf, but was instead surprised.

"Fine. When should I be expecting her? I will send my guard captain to escort her through the forest," he said.

"Four days after I return, which will be one week from today, my lord."

"Very well. You can leave now."

Legolas Greenleaf was a good warrior and heir to Mirkwood. Tauriel was the best fighter that the Woodland Realm had, and, despite her lack of noble birth, was the captain of the guard. Legolas was hopelessly in love with the copper-haired Sylvan Elf, but she did not return his sentiments, a fact that hurt him quite deeply, though he did not show it. They were lifelong friends, and he did not want anything to ruin that.

He went with Tauriel to greet Linwe at the edges of the forest, to be part of the royal welcoming committee. Having met Elrond's other three children, he was interested to know this daughter who was kept secret.

They waited at the edge of the forest, weapons poised in case any Orcs or Ungoliants were nearby. Eventually, they heard a horse's *clop clop* approach. An Elf rode a beautiful black horse, guarded by Imladris' best warriors.

"Hail, Linwe, daughter of Elrond," Tauriel said, bowing as the Elven princess dismounted. "I am Tauriel, captain of the guard of the Woodland Realm."

"Hail, Tauriel," she replied, her voice soft and musical. She glanced over at Legolas. He was a handsome Elf, that was certain.

"Hail. I am Legolas Greenleaf, heir of Thranduil," he said, also bowing.

Catching his meaning, she bent at the knee as well, not even muddying her pristine white dress. "An honor to be greeted by the prince himself," she said. "Did your father not trust me to get to his kingdom through the forest on my own?"

"There are spiders invading the forest. He thought it would be better with a guard, my lady," he explained.

Linwe nodded and then, with a simple wave of her hand, her guards mounted their horses and turned around, poised to leave. "Tell Adar that I am in good hands." And with another wave, they were off. Legolas was impressed.

"So? Shall we go, or do you plan on standing here till the Ungoliants come for us?" She smirked, reminding Tauriel very much of Thranduil. "And please, do not treat me differently or use my title. I am your contemporary, both of you."

"We will respect your wishes," Tauriel promised.

"Can I have a sword?" Linwe asked suddenly.

"What? Why?" Legolas asked.

Linwe scoffed. "Because you claim these lands are dangerous, and I will need to defend myself."

"That is why Thranduil sent us," Tauriel said. "To protect you."

"Well, good for him. But I am a very good fighter if I do say so myself. I would feel safer with a weapon. Adar would not send me with any; says it's not right for a princess to fight." Glancing at Legolas' small arsenal she added, "I am glad that your father does not hold to the same creed."

"No. He believes that an Elf who cannot fend for themselves in a fight should not be part of his kingdom," Legolas said, handing her a dagger.

"How long is the walk?" she wondered.

"About two hours, if we do not run into any trouble," Tauriel said.

After they went a few minutes in silence, Linwe said, "I am not sure why my father thinks I should be here. He never explains his visions to us. One day I think Arwen will engage him into a fight because of his evasiveness. And I admit, I do not exactly know what to expect."  
"What do you need to know?" Legolas asked.

"I am solitary. Rarely do I engage in conversations with other Elves in Imladris, but that doesn't mean I do not listen. I hear what they say, especially during Council meetings. They do not speak well of King Thranduil. They say he is selfish, rude and conceited. That if he could separate Mirkwood from the other Elven kingdoms completely, he would."

Legolas sighed. "While I hate admitting it, they are right. My father is not very nice, and he is selfish. But he is also wise and fair. Related or not, I would have left long ago if I thought he was not a good king. He has wronged me before, and he is very difficult to get along with. He will be cruel in his words, and you must be ready to expect that."

Linwe smirked. "Words cannot hurt me, Legolas. If your father thinks that I will shirk away because of harsh statements, he will find that I am much tougher than I look."

Tauriel chuckled. "Something tells me that Thranduil has never met anyone who would challenge him so openly."

"He has not met me yet."

They arrived at the Woodland Realm gates, and Linwe, the youngest in a very kind family, hardened her heart and schooled her expression to that of bland annoyance. She had been pushed aside all her life in favor of her sister, Arwen, and she was fairly certain that this expedition was to simply have her out of the way for a bit. Being ignored and slighted by all of Imladris made facing the feared Elvenking seem like a walk in the park.

But if this Elf thought he could treat her unfairly, he could think again. She would not let anyone walk on her anymore. Being in Mirkwood would be a new start for her, and she was starting by becoming unfeeling and stronger than she ever was before.

Walking through the beautiful halls made her schooled expression slip a bit. This place was beautiful, if a little sinister. She liked it much better than Imladris.

They approached a staircase that led to a throne of antlers and branches. And seated upon it was the most beautiful creature that Linwe had ever seen. He was so tall, his legs seemed to go on forever. Clothed in silk and velvet, he had a staff of carven oak and a crown of leaves in his silver-blonde hair; hair that hung to the small of his back. His skin was milky white, with cheekbones that could cut, cherry red lips and icy blue eyes under thick black brows and lined with long black lashes.

Tauriel had been watching Linwe, to see what it would take for that disinterested mask to slip, and this was it. Thranduil. Linwe's eyes widened and her mouth started to drop before she fixed her mask back into place again and it did not slip again.

"Ada, this is Lady Linwe, of Imladris," Legolas introduced.

Linwe took a knee and bowed before the Elvenking. She heard his boots hit the stairs as he descended, and only when he spoke her name, in a deep, commanding voice, did she look up.

"My lord?"

"You are Elven royalty. You bow to no one. Now get up." He watched her as she straightened her form, taking in the beauty before him. Arwen was beautiful, and her brothers also possessed that natural Elven attractiveness, but something about Linwe struck him. She had a quality inside that the others lacked, something that made her stand out. She had the fair skin all Elves had, a pouty pink mouth, heart-shaped face and deep, dark eyes. Her hair was like black silk, falling down her back, with a small plait holding back from her fair face.

Something inside of her, a sense of grace and strength, made her more than beautiful, more than ethereal. Immediately, Thranduil respected her, and her ability to look him in the eye and not flinch.

"Welcome to the Woodland Realm, Linwe Helyanwe," he said. "We are glad to welcome you into our kingdom.

Neither royal Elf knew that the other was hiding a rapidly beating heart beneath their nearly matching cold exteriors.


	2. Chapter 2

When the Elvenking wants to speak with you privately, you never know if it's a good thing or a bad thing. For Linwe, it turned out to be a neutral thing.

"Elrond has never liked me," Thranduil began. "I know. Nor do Galadriel nor Celeborn. So tell me, why did your father send you here? Why would he want his child...exposed to my poor influence?"

They were seated in a comfortable room with torches on the wall and a warm glow suffusing them. The Elvenking was in a big chair far away from the torches, while the princess was on a chaise lounge, not as comfortable as she looked.

"My father is too busy with my elder siblings to care much for what happens to me. He claimed he had a vision about me and sent me here, for the future of Imladris, he claimed. I do not know if he was telling the truth, or if he merely wanted to punish you by making you deal with me for a few centuries."

"The Elven code says you must honor your kin," Thranduil said. "You do not seem to be honoring your father in your heart."

"When he honors me, I shall honor him," was her reply. "Why did you agree to have me here when you could have easily refused?"

"Politics. I would not like to make the other Eldar leaders even angrier with me than they usually are," he replied. "What is one more Elfling in these vast halls?"

"If you think I'm just another Elfling, my lord, you will find yourself mistaken," she said.

Thranduil arched one of those impossibly magnificent brows and stood, going to a table and pouring two glasses of wine. He handed one to the princess and held his glass up in a mock toast. "Welcome to the Woodland Realm, my lady."

"When can I begin my patrols?" she asked suddenly. Thranduil was a little shocked at her voice, as he had been too intent on staring at her lips as she sipped her wine.

"Pardon me?"

Linwe gave a sigh. "My patrols. You allow your only son and heir to be a member of the guard. I should think I would be given a similar position."

"Can you handle weapons, Linwe?" he wondered.

"I am an Elf. Just because my father did not allow me to practice does not meant that I didn't. Let me fight for you, my lord. Allow me to prove myself in a way that my father wouldn't." It wasn't a plea. Thranduil was fairly certain that she had never begged for anything in her life. That was a command to him from an equal. Despite her young age (barely two thousand years old) she did not bow to his whim or melt under his scrutinizing stare as others did. He admired her.

But he was the Elvenking. He could not give so easily in to her demands. "Eventually. I take pride in my army being the best in all of Middle Earth. I will have Tauriel train you, give you weapons and prepare you. I cannot go by your word alone that you are a worthy fighter."

"I suppose that's fair enough."

"Lindir said that Elrond wants you to learn about other kingdoms. While you're here I assume that I have to be the one to teach you. So every day I will have you spend time with me in meetings, reviewing the garrison, checking border patrol and various other duties. It will vary daily, of course," he said, sounding as bored as he knew she was going to be.

"So I have to be your shadow while I'm here?" That didn't sound that awful to her. She would be running her own kingdom one day, after all. And it meant that she could be around Thranduil as much as she pleased. Every second she spent with him she desired him more and more. She had always scoffed at Arwen for her love for the Elessar, her future husband, she'd call him. He was a child now, but he would be a Man soon enough. Linwe had never quite understood the concept of love. She never knew her mother, and what her father and Lindir shared was nothing more than physical comfort, devoid of love or even respect. She had always thought that love was a myth. Until, that is, she laid eyes on the Elvenking.

Something inside of her recognized a kindred spirit in him. It wasn't just his physical beauty (though that helped). It was something deeper, something that all the other Elves seemed to miss.

"Is there a reason for your continued silence, Elfling?" Thranduil asked. He was not angry, but amused and observant. She was not like the Elves of the Hidden Valley, who were warm and open, relying on their brains instead of their instincts.

"Well, my lord, I was merely thinking that I would rather be following you around than being tossed aside like yesterday's refuse," Linwe said. "If you will excuse me, I believe I should retire now and prepare for training tomorrow."

Linwe left the room, and bumped into Legolas and Tauriel, whom she greeted. "Tauriel, the king is allowing me to train with you, so perhaps I could be a member of the guard."

"Well, I'd be quite glad to be of assistance," Tauriel said. "I will go to the king tomorrow and ask for a preferred schedule."

"Elrond would not be pleased," Legolas observed.

Linwe smirked. "I believe that that particular fact is why your ada agreed to let me train."

That was, in fact, part of the reason. Thranduil could not understand why Elrond kept his daughters sequestered, but perhaps it had to do with his late wife, Celebrian, who sailed West after a long illness. Perhaps he wanted to keep his two daughters safe, but he did not realise that, by doing so, he was hurting them even more. They would both rebel if he did not show them respect and equality.

The loss of Elrond's wife made Thranduil start to think of his own loss. When his father, Oropher, first ruled the Greenwood, Thranduil met and married Celeblasbes [name meaning Silver Leaf Wife], a cousin of Celeborn, husband of Galadriel and father of Celebrian. They had a son named Legolas, whom you, reader, now know. After Oropher died in the Battle of Dagorlad, Thranduil returned to Mirkwood and to his wife and son, who was barely a baby. When he brought back the ramshackle remnants of the army, he found that Mirkwood was being attacked by a dragon, Gostir. Due to powerful Elven spells, the forest could not burn, but Elves could.

Thranduil, realizing that he needed to take charge much sooner than he had expected, leaving himself no time to grieve over the death of his father, gathered what he could of the Army and rallied against the dragon.

His wife was a doughty warrior, skilled in archery and spellcasting. Celeblasbes was fighting, leading her own small army against it, presumably to protect her baby.

"Melamin, hurry and get back to Legolas," Thranduil said, rushing to her side with his sword drawn. "I cannot see you hurt."

"It is for our Little Leaf that I fight," she replied. "I will not let anything hurt him!"

"Then we shall fight side by side," Thranduil said, seeing the determined look in his wife's lovely eyes. They battled for hours, wounding the dragon but not defeating it. It killed more Elves, but it was so large that it could not move as it wished. At this point, Thranduil was certain that his wife was going to kill it and be hailed a hero, but that was sadly not the case.

Celeblasbes saw it turn, heading in the direction where their halls-and Legolas' nursery-were, and she dashed off, dancing on tree tops, to get to it. Thranduil followed close on her heels, afraid for her to face the creature alone.

"You will not touch my son!" Celeblasbes shouted, loosing three arrows at once at the creature. One arrow hit its eye, making it half-blind.

In an instant, Thranduil went from feeling proud to feeling pure dread, as Gostir turned its flames to his wife. Thranduil was quite agile, the best Elven fighter, but he was not quick enough to save her. She was killed by the flames, and Thranduil had lost sight in one eye and most of the skin on the left side of his face.

Thranduil hurled his sword into the thing's neck, uncaring for his own well-being at that moment, and his recklessness paid off: Gostir died there, and his reign of terror had ended.

The Elvenking knelt by his wife, searching for some sign of life. He was amazed to find that she still breathed! As his face leaked blood, he tried to wake her. Her hair was mostly gone, and her skin was crisped. Her eyes had been melted out of her face, and he could smell cooked flesh. It took all his willpower not to vomit.

"Celeblasbes, please, speak to me," he begged, only one eye capable of creating tears.

All she was able to say was, "For Legolas," before her heart ceased to beat. Thranduil bent over his fallen wife, not caring that his new subjects were seeing him weep. They said not all tears are evil, but these were. He cursed life, and, after that public display of emotion, he metaphorically covered up his heart in mithril, and no one ever saw him smile, laugh or cry again, not even his beloved son, for whom his wife had given her last breath.

Thranduil covered up his scars with glamour, and covered up his emotions as well. Not since that day had he ever felt anything acutely...until he laid eyes on Linwe, daughter of Elrond.

"What is happening to me?" he whispered to himself, alone in the dark.


	3. Chapter 3

Linwe knew all about having a heart of steel. You have to, when your mother dies as you're just a small Elfling, your older siblings treat you like a leper and your father is too busy with the Council to deal with you. And when he does deal with you, it's to tell you that you cannot learn to fight and, oh yes, you need to leave and go halfway across Middle Earth to live with a king even he can't stand.

Linwe wasn't even sure she had a heart, until that silver-haired angel appeared. Now she couldn't comprehend what she was feeling, never knowing that Thranduil was feeling the exact same way.

As she thought of him, there was a knock on her chamber door. She opened it and an Elf handed her clothing to train in: the green and brown uniform Legolas and Tauriel wore, not the armor worn when actually in battle.

Disrobing and happily discarding the flowing dress she had been wearing, she donned the leggings and tunic, feeling much more comfortable and free to move. There are no doors in the kingdom (except gates in the prisons), and she had no idea someone had been watching her.

Thranduil had come down her way only to be sure she had received the clothing when he saw her standing there in naught but her leggings and boots. Heat creeped up his neck and a blush suffused his cheeks. Her long dark hair covered her pale, perfect skin and as she was about to turn around, common sense took over and he crept away so she wouldn't see him.

He ducked into the nearest empty room he could find, so he could catch the breath he had been fine with moments ago. He noticed that his pants were uncomfortably tight, a feeling he had not experienced since he had first met his late wife. He had not meant to see Linwe in such a way, he told himself. And he also tried to tell himself that he had not wanted to stay and see her as she turned, but he was no fool. At nearly six thousand years old, he might not have been the wisest or oldest Elf, but he had more common sense than to lie to himself. He had wanted to see her, and he had wanted her to know he was watching.

"By the Valar, I am losing my mind," he said, wishing that his hard-on would go away so he could get on with his business. But he was not losing his mind. He was regaining his heart.

Linwe joined Tauriel outside the gates of the Woodland Realm for training. They were near enough to the kingdom that spiders wouldn't be an issue, but not so close that they would accidentally injure one of the other Elves.

What surprised Linwe was the fact that the prince was there as well.

"Just interested to see the sort of fighters Imladris breeds," he said when she questioned his reason for attendance.

"Show me what you can already do. Are you an archer or a swordswoman?" Tauriel asked.

"Swordswoman. And dagger-woman, I suppose. I never did well with longbows," Linwe said. She surveyed the chest of weapons Tauriel had brought and selected a long sword, two daggers and two spares.

Tauriel pulled her daggers and they immediately began to spar, Tauriel going very easy on Linwe, as she didn't believe that the princess could fight as well as she claimed. But she was very wrong in her assumptions.

Linwe was a fighter of the likes of Legolas, graceful, beautiful, precise and deadly. Had this been a real fight, Tauriel was certain that she would not have survived more than five minutes. As it was, she lasted about seven minutes before Linwe had her in a choke-hold, a dagger to her throat.

"I win," she said with a knowing lilt in her voice.

Legolas looked shocked, and he went to Tauriel to see if she was all right. Aside from being breathless, she was fine (to his relief), though her pride was wounded.

"Want to have a go?" Legolas asked Linwe, eager to test out the skills of a new fighter (and avenge Tauriel's loss).

"Are you sure you can take me, Princeling?" she challenged. She stood tall and proud, her sword at her side and her chin raised. Tauriel watched her carefully, knowing that she was not like any of the other Elves. She was different. She was harder, wiser and much more dignified. Tauriel was not an Elf blessed with foresight, but she knew that this was a true ruler, an Elvenqueen.

The fight with Legolas took longer, and there was no clear winner at the end of it. Legolas had never lost a fight, nor had he ever met an Elfling who could actually match him in battle. He was very impressed.

"Why did you let Ada make you agree to train? You should be training us," he commented.

Linwe gave a mocking bow. "Because Thranduil does not trust easily. I agree to train, you go to him and tell him I'm already good, and he will just say I need more training, because he won't believe you. I could fight him, and he would still order me more training, because he is a proud king, and won't admit it when he is bested or wrong. So it was easier to just agree right away and forgo all of that."

"How do you know his personality so well?" Tauriel asked.

"Because in many ways it mirrors my own," Linwe revealed, wiping off her sword. "So we just have a little fun sparring and pretend I'm learning."

Tauriel shrugged. She kind of liked the princess, despite her similarities to Thranduil. She wouldn't mind getting in some extra exercise with an Elf who could beat her. Thus far, the only other time Tauriel had been beaten was when she fought Legolas.

"Legolas!" a sharp voice called. All three Elflings turned to see their king, who never, ever ventured further than the gates of the Woodland Realm. "I did not give you leave to hang around the guard all day. You are needed." His icy eyes traveled to Linwe, who tried to ignore the flutters in her stomach. "I will have need of you tomorrow. You are to sit in on a meeting with an emissary from Lake-Town."

Legolas gave a playful pout at his friends and told Linwe, "Better you than me," before he followed his father through the trees and back home.

Linwe kept looking in the direction they'd disappeared in before sheathing her sword. Was it inappropriate to be thinking sinful thoughts about the king who had graciously taken her in? She was fairly certain that it was.

"Good luck having to hang around him all the time," Tauriel scoffed. "If I were in your place, I'd go running back to Imladris, begging to be let in."

Linwe gazed down at the Sylvan Elf and said, "I do not beg, Tauriel. If you would prefer to take my place, why don't you leave instead of insulting your king?"

Tauriel watched as Linwe glided away, her grace evident in every movement even when she was vexed. Tauriel wondered about Linwe's feelings regarding Thranduil. By Elvish nature, sex equaled marriage, and once an Elf had sired or birthed a child (as Thranduil had) they no longer had any interest in romance. But Thranduil's boy was grown, and his wife had been dead over two thousand years. Was Linwe's possible love misplaced or would Thranduil be the first Elf to take a second wife? The thought of anyone sleeping with the king made Tauriel feel ill, as she had never liked him very much. But she did see the different way Linwe acted around Thranduil. It was not very obvious to most, but to her it was clear as day.

"Linwe, if you get your heart broken, do not come and seek me for comfort," she muttered, sorting the weapons to take back into the kingdom.

Thranduil's first rise since his wife died did not leave him completely throughout the rest of the day. Thankfully, his long robes and gowns covered up the evidence of his arousal and no one, not even his observant son, noticed. But he knew about it, and he felt quite ashamed and disgraceful. He had loved Celeblasbes with all of his heart, and had never wanted another Elf since her death. The physical reaction he was having towards Linwe was disturbing him. This was not Elvish custom, and he worried what the Valar thought if they saw him.

But he could not get the sight of her beautiful body out of his mind. After dealing with some minor business with his son, he realised that he needed relief.

"Ada, why did you pull me away?" Legolas asked, and Thranduil told him a lie he had barely formatted in his mind. He had really been spying on Linwe. He watched her defeat Tauriel and come to a stalemate with his son. As impressed as he was with Linwe's fighting skills (and her accurate assessment of Thranduil's personality), he was disconcerted at how close she and Legolas appeared. He had been jealous of his own son!

"Tell me, are you getting along with Linwe?" Thranduil asked him.

"Yes, I am. She is...interesting. I am not sure if Tauriel likes her or not. She told me Linwe reminds her of you," Legolas said with a small chuckle.

"She is not of our world, Legolas. She will leave us as soon as her adar sends for her, so do not get too attached to her," Thranduil warned.

It dawned on Legolas what his father really meant. "Oh! No, Ada, I do not like her in that way. She does not attract me. It is not Linwe I am interested in...in a romantic way."

Thranduil did not say anything, lest his relief be evident in his voice. He simply bid his son a goodnight and went to his chambers to relax. He spent some time reading, and even a little more writing in his daily log. He did everything he could to make the uncomfortable feeling below his belt go away, but to no avail. The sight of her smooth back and long, silken hair was burned on his brain and every time he closed his eyes he saw her, and he had no problem imagining her completely naked, spread below him on his vast bed, his name on her lips repeatedly as he thrust inside of her, seating himself in her warmth…

He banged his hand on the table, making a crack in it. His mind had gotten away from him and now the hard-on was back in full force. He knew how to take care of it, obviously. But he also knew that that was forbidden amongst Elves as well. Pleasuring oneself was for heathens like Dwarves and Men, not the Eldar. But if it was between pleasure himself or possibly injure himself by staying that way, he'd choose to pleasure himself.

He slowly divested himself of his robe and gown, removed his crown and let his hair hang freely around his aristocratic face before he got into his bed and lay propped up on his pillows. He felt ashamed at what he was going to do, but his long cock was swollen and leaking as awful thoughts danced through his head. He needed immediate relief and so he took himself in hand and began to stroke.

Linwe was charged with adrenaline as she decided to wander the vast halls, going deeper in than she had on the first two days of coming to Mirkwood. Many rooms were unoccupied, and she did see Legolas reading at a desk in another.

A few meters down, she heard a light moan that stopped her in her tracks. It was not a moan of pain, but rather of pleasure.

Curious, she walked towards the sound and nearly fell back in shock and awe. In what could only be described as a hall of its own was Thranduil, reclining in the center of a large, white bed, propped up on soft pillows and naked as the day he was born.

Linwe knew she should walk away, hurry back to her room before she was discovered, but how could she? The sight of her new king was arresting and beautiful. His long, pale legs were spread, his hard torso was lean and well-muscled, and his large, strong hands were gripping his impressive length, pumping it at a leisurely but rough pace.

Her heart sped up and she had to bite her lip to keep from gasping as she watched him. So far he was only using one hand to spread precome down his length and caress it tightly. His face was flushed and his eyes were half-lidded, dark lashes casting shadows on his face. His lips were parted in pleasure, soft sounds escaping them and making Linwe's knees weak.

He looked so sensual, so beautiful there, bare and spread and vulnerable. She watched him and imagined that it was her hand that was caressing his engorged length, her hand that was giving him those moans of pleasure that sent shivers through her body. She felt heat pooling between her legs, a warm wetness that was entirely new to her. She was not ignorant. She knew about sex and desire, she had just never experienced it before now. She did not know, however, that what Thranduil was doing was against the Elven code. All she knew was that she was enjoying the sight.

She bit her lip harder, and without thinking found her fingers trailing to the thin leggings and pressing against herself through the fabric, wishing it was his tongue instead. She moved her fingers to the same pace he was moving his hand.

She watched as he threw his head back and started pumping his hips up into his hand in a motion as graceful as every other thing he did. He pumped his hips harder and she moved her fingers quicker, barely aware that she was doing it. Her every thought was on Thranduil.

Thranduil let out a moan that went straight to Linwe's wet nub and she came (quietly, she had enough control over herself to not be discovered), biting her tongue to keep him from hearing. As soon as her heart rate began to slow she watched the Elvenking's hips still and his long, beautiful cock spurt come in thick ropes, covering his hand and stomach as he kept moaning and gasping.

When she realised that Thranduil could now sit up any second and see her, she bolted, heading straight back to her room and burying herself into her bed.

She closed her eyes, replaying what she saw in her mind until she fell into a blissful slumber, grateful that she had not been caught.

Thranduil knew it was wrong to pleasure himself the way he did, and he also knew that it was very wrong to put on a little show for his unexpected audience of one. He smirked to himself that the princess had thought she had come and gone unseen. But it was her presence, and the fact that he saw her fingers trying to pleasure herself while watching him, that made him come so violently and moan so wantonly.

He shamefully hoped that she had liked what she'd seen and come back for a more...personal demonstration.


	4. Chapter 4

Linwe wondered how she was going to face Thranduil the next day for "royalty training" after what she had just witnessed? Could her carefully composed mask stay in place if those images of the Elvenking in the throes of passion came skittering across her brain?

Gazing into her mirror, she told herself, "You are not an Elfling any longer. You are a princess with a princess' duties. Now you are to go out there and make the Elvenking proud." Donning a long silver gown and red cape, she exited her chambers and met with Thranduil in a small but sumptuously furnished room with a long table.

"I am surprised that you don't take meetings in the throne room," Linwe said as Thranduil offered her a seat at the table, on his right. She wondered why Legolas was not to be at the meeting.

"Usually I do. But there is only one throne, and two Elven royals," he replied.

"But what about Legolas?"

"What about him?" Thranduil asked.

"He is the prince, your heir. Shouldn't he be involved in the meetings as well?" she wondered. "Forgive me if I am prying, my lord, but I do honestly want to know all the workings of your kingdom."

"It is all right. I agreed to host you and answer all your queries pertaining to the inner workings of my kingdom. Legolas prefers to be active in the field. Things like trade with Men or Dwarves do not interest him," he explained. "Now, if you are anything like me, you abhor insolence and despise stupidity. You should know that these persons coming will possess both of those qualities. As much as you will want to give them a thorough tongue-lashing, I must advise against it. Just observe and do your best to not kill them, hm?"

Linwe couldn't help but laugh. "Really, Thranduil, do you think me a child? I can conduct myself with grace and indifference for a small meeting with humans."

The meeting was with a man who liked to be called "The Master" and his assistant, Alfrid. Linwe was not sure which one she disliked more, though she leaned towards Alfrid, because while the Master was idiotic and greedy, he was not sneaky. She did not like the look in the small human's black eyes one bit and wanted to keep an eye on him while he was in the Woodland Realm. The way he sneered at Thranduil didn't help her opinion of him.

The meeting was about the trade between the two kingdoms. The Master felt that the gold-gilded barrels Thranduil was sending weren't sufficient, and he wanted more.

"When my people drink more than that amount per week, I will seek counsel for their unfortunate alcohol addiction," Thranduil snipped. "Your town's only surviving because of my kindness and charity. If you continue to come here and belittle my kindness and demand-not suggest but demand-more from this realm, I will cut you off completely. Am I making myself clear?"

Alfrid spluttered, "You-you're rudeness is not appreciated! The Master could go to anyone and get income for this town, probably more than what you give to us!"

"Oh? And to whom would he go?" Thranduil asked. "To Erebor, where a firedrake sits on hoards of treasure? Or to Rohan, who pretends your little village does not exist? Face reality, both of you. You are lucky I pity mortals. I will increase some of the other trade-the used weapons and tapestries-for a time. Make sure you have someone out here once a week. If no one comes, I will assume that you do not care for my generosity any longer and I will order my guards to shoot anyone from Lake-Town on sight in the future, do you understand?"

Linwe watched her king stand, his height imposing and his voice nearly guttural in his annoyance. She could not deny that it was quite the turn on.

The Master and his little whipping boy stood hastily, affronted bit slightly alarmed as well. They knew that they could not do without the Elvenking's contributions to their town, but they did not appreciate the woodland sprite's tone or attitude towards them. In their minds, they were superior than he, and thought he should have treated them better.

"One day we will grow so huge that it will be you, Elf, that has to come to us," Alfrid spat. "You'll be sorry!"

Linwe, who had been silent thus far, stood and stepped in front of the angry mortal. "Threatening the King of the Woodland Realm, are we? Is that really a good political move? You are insignificant in every way possible, far beneath my king, and yet you walk in here as if you were his equal. It is only because of his kindness that he has not thrown you both in the prisons. You'd do well to remember that next time you want to threaten him." She reached into one of the many pockets in Alfrid's coat (dreading having to come that close in contact with the man) and pulled out a golden chain with decidedly Elven engravings. "And you should not try to steal from us. Elf eyes see all."

Thranduil had not seen the little man take the chain, but then he had not walked him in through the gates. Making a mental note to talk to his guards about vigilance, he said, "I suggest that you depart immediately, or there are two cells in which I could store you until your mortal bodies wither away to nought but dust, at which time I will drink my best wine and toast your deaths. Ego!"

They scurried away, led by two guards, leaving the king and princess alone with a heavy silence that hung over them both.

It was Linwe who broke it, saying, "I am sorry, my lord. I know you said to keep quiet, but I was raised with honor and to hear that mortal belittle you and then see that he had stolen from you...I could not keep my tongue."

"You do not have to apologize. You acted justly. And to be fair, you held your tongue for quite a long time. When I was your age and insolent humans came and spoke harshly to Adar, I did not keep my wits about me. It got to the point that he had to leave me out of the meetings."

Linwe was surprised to hear such an intimate piece of information from the king. She had been told in Imladris that he was solitary and secretive about himself and his past.

"I have a task for you, Linwe," he said.

"Yes?"

"The bargeman is scheduled to come in two days. I would like for you to meet him, and ensure that the Master did not send someone who would be so bold as to cheat us. Since you were here today, I think it best for you to go, along with a guard, of course."

"Sure, my lord." She went to take her leave but Thranduil called her back.

"I know coming here was not your idea. But I would like you to know that the mood of the people seems to have improved since your arrival. Tauriel scowls less, and ion nin has spent more time in this realm than he has in the past month," he said. "Fresh blood seems to enliven the masses."

"And you, sire?" she asked.

"What about me?"

"How has your mood been since my arrival?"

Perhaps he imagined that wicked glint in her onyx eyes, but imagined or not it had an unfortunate effect on his Elfhood, and he was glad that he was a master of schooling his face and controlling his emotions.

"I have barely registered your presence before I needed to," he lied. She knew he was lying, so the words didn't bother her. Let him pretend she wasn't either a welcome change or hated nuisance if it made him feel good. "And you, since coming here?"

"Except for the lack of sunlight and increasingly rude king, I have not noticed a difference." She smirked and glided from the room, knowing she'd left him in awe of her tenacity.

She did not know that she had also left him with a hard on that would remain with him all day.

In two days Linwe was accompanied by an Elf guard to the very edge of the river that ran from Mirkwood to merge into the Long Lake leading into Esgaroth. While it was technically still part of the Elvenking's property, it was used by peoples of both kingdoms and considered neutral ground.

At that edge of property Linwe waited for the bargeman to pick up the empty barrels (fourteen instead of what Thranduil had told her was the usual ten, a good thing for a certain Company in the near future) and three tapestries. What the people of Lake-Town did with the things they traded was beyond her, and she really didn't care. She just wanted to do her job and was relieved when she saw the large boat that was heading her way.

A tall man was at the helm, not as tall as Thranduil but taller than she. He wore quite ratty clothing compared with the fine silks the Master had worn, but that did nothing to take away from his physical appearance. She had never known many Men, except the child, Aragorn, but if they all had features like this bargeman, then she really needed to get out more!

He gave her none of the heart-wrenching feelings that Thranduil did, but he was a gorgeous specimen: dark, slightly unruly hair, hazel eyes and a small goatee framing a plump mouth, tanned skin and a fine archer's body. Indeed, he had an impressive homemade longbow and arrows in his barge.

"Aaye," he called in Sindarin.

"Mae govannen," Linwe replied. "Are you the bargeman from Esgaroth?"

"Aye. I am not usually met by Elves when picking up the cargo from King Thranduil," he said in a slightly odd accent. "Is there a problem?" He looked at the amount of barrels and tapestries and added, "There are more here than usual."

"Your Master came by and was most insistent that Lord Thranduil give more to the town. I will admit, you are quite lucky the Master was even returned to you and not imprisoned, especially after his manservant or whatever that little weasel is attempted to steal from us.

"Thranduil has been most generous to your struggling little village, for reasons that I, personally, do not understand. I would not have let that man leave my kingdom were I in charge. But you remember, every time you pick up extra barrels or whatever else my lord deems your town worthy of, that you have no one to thank but Thranduil."

She knew she was imposing. Despite her youth, despite her father being considered kind and her mother supposedly being kind as well, she was born with an innate hardness. She was not about to let a bunch of mortals think that they had gotten the better of Thranduil.

"Well, if I'm being honest, had King Thranduil preferred to lock up the Master and Alfrid for the rest of their lives, I think most of Lake-Town would have rejoiced," the bargeman admitted, looking her straight in the eye.

"Oh? And you publicly demean your superior so bluntly? He looks kindly on that?" Linwe asked. "Tell me, why would you rather they be imprisoned than continue running Esgaroth?"

"You met them, didn't you? They run the town horribly. We have no proper wood for fires, no herbs for medical care, and what herbs we manage to salvage are considered illegal. Most of us are half-dead from the cold and damp and lack of food. We would be better off being our own masters."

Linwe observed his earnest face. He had no guile about him. "You have no medical supplies? No herbs? How can your master consider medicinal herbs illegal?"

The bargeman shrugged his shoulders. "My wife died in childbirth because we had nothing to slow her bleeding. It was by the blessing of the Valar that my youngest daughter survived birth."

She was surprised to see moisture in his eyes. Elves rarely cried, and this mortal was doing so quite easily, with just a few words. Her heart went out to him. "What is your name and how many bairns have you?"

"My name is Bard. I have three children."

"And are you the only bargeman who collects our goods?"

He nodded.

"I will see you next week, Bard. Aa' i'sul nora lanne'lle."

With that, she took her leave, leaving the bargeman confused. What had all that been about? He shook his head to clear it. The conversation had made him late and he needed to hurry and get home to his kids.

"You want what now?" Thranduil had been lounging in his throne, observing his kingdom from the high perch, as he enjoyed doing of an evening. That was when Linwe approached him with a very odd request. "Don't you think that we do enough for that forsaken town?"

Linwe shook her head. "Of course we do. But that utinu en lokirim has dropped to a new low, refusing his people the herbs our people cultivated centuries before that town even existed. That is not his property, and he has no right to deny his people of what your people gave them."

"All right. What do you need?" Thranduil asked, noticing her slip and say "our people". She already considered herself a member of the Woodland Realm.

"Permission, sir. Just your permission to go and pick herbs and give them to Bard to give to those who are ailing in Esgaroth."

"But why, Linwe? I do not understand," he said.

"Mortals, by design, live less than a hundred years. Few make it past the centennial. I find it quite cruel for any of them to have to die even sooner than that. Their lives are a blink to us, but to them eighty years is a very long time indeed. With our long lives, who are we to deny them the right to live a bit longer if they can? They deserve the chance to live as long as possible, and we can aid them," Linwe explained.

The king leaned back in his throne, taking in the beautiful princess with the heart of gold. Her kindness reminded him of his late wife, and it made yet another chink in the armor around his heart. "Tell me, were you so taken by the human that you feel the need to save him?"

Linwe scoffed. "Are you asking me if I developed feelings for a mortal? My lord, have you smoked what the wizard Radagast keeps in his pipe? I pity him, not love him!" She wanted to add, How could I think of any other creature in a romantic way after being in your presence? But, of course, she could not say something so bold to a king thousands of years her senior. It was not proper, unless he made an advance first.

"I did not think so, but I had to be sure. Go. Take what you need for him, as often as you please. Just make sure that he is to never tell anyone who gave them the herbs. For if the humans decide to go to war with us...well, then I really would pity them." He waved his hand for her to go.

She curtseyed, saying, "Thank you, heruamin."

He watched her leave, wishing that the tugging on his heart would cease, but like it or not his walls were coming down and he was powerless to stop it.


	5. Chapter 5

Bard had been grateful and tremendously surprised when Linwe had presented him with a small enough amount of various medicinal plants to hide about his person and give to the sick in his town.

"Why?" he asked.

Linwe shrugged. She dressed as a common guard Elf when she went to meet the bargeman, so he did not realise she was royal. "I asked Thranduil for permission and he granted it. I suggest you take these, with our good wishes, and not question it. I will meet you often with more, I promise."

"I do not know how to thank you, arwen en amin," he said. His Sindarin was awful, with a poor accent and he obviously had no grip on phonetics, but she understood him fine.

"Take care of your children and your people. Do not let the Master step on you. That is how you can thank me," she replied.

"I will try." He left then, a hopeful look on his face and Linwe felt her heart soar. She liked using her position and power to help people. It was one of her few enjoyments. When she turned to leave, she heard a distinct rustling in the bushes.

Pulling her dagger she went to confront her spy and found the king himself.

"My lord?" she said, confused. "Were you watching me?"

"No, I was merely making sure you were all right. You dismissed your guard this afternoon," he replied.

"I do not like being shadowed as if I were a child or untrustworthy," she said.

"I do not consider you a child or untrustworthy," Thranduil assured her. "I sent you out with a guard on the behalf of Elrond. Were you to be hurt while in my care it would further alienate our realms, and I would not like that. Especially since you are here to promote relations between us."

Linwe nodded in understanding. "I would prefer not being treated as if I were an invalid from now on. Were anything to happen to me, it would be no one's fault but my own for being so careless and unobservant."

Thranduil bowed his head, a sign of consent. "Would you allow me to escort you back to our halls?" He winced, noticing that he had said, "our". A second slip in that manner, now coming from him. She had not been here a week, and already he was far too used to her presence. It concerned him, and excited him at the same time.

"I would be honored if my king would escort me home," Linwe replied, not bothering to attempt to stop herself from saying that. The Woodland Realm felt like home, unlike the cold beauty of Imladris. Despite being under the eye of such a stern and beautiful king, she was very comfortable there.

They walked slowly and in silence. Thranduil was gazing about him and she remembered hearing that he had not left the gates of his halls in centuries, if not millennia. Since she had arrived he had gone far beyond the gates twice already. Why was that? She wanted to ask, she wanted to settle in that plush bed with him, with his arms around her, and tell all of her secrets, and in turn learn all of his. She wanted to know everything about him, his childhood and his dreams. She wanted to get him to open up in more ways than one.

What Thranduil was thinking was one of those things she'd want to know about. He remembered, five thousand and five hundred years ago, Oropher had brought him to this place, found the Wood-Elves and became their king. The wood had been beautiful, called Greenwood. Life burst through the trees and lovely animals abounded, and the Elves were friendly with them.

He remembered playing out of doors, hating to come inside for his princely duties. That was how he had befriended the elk he rode. He had found it, motherless and hurt, and he had nursed it back to health. It had become domesticated and even hard-hearted Oropher could not deny his child permission to keep it in the stables with the horses.

When Sauron's evil had been unleashed, and the Orcs had gone to Dol Guldur, the Greenwood had been poisoned and his people had been forced to condense themselves inside the Northern halls once the Orcs had killed Oropher. He found that he missed the Greenwood of old, but felt powerless to help it return to its former glory.

"This place was once beautiful, Linwe," he said, startling her. "Lush and verdant, with wild creatures living in its depths. I would see it return to its former glory one day."

"I am sure you will see. Evil dies, and good always prevails. Sauron's army and influence cannot last forever," she replied.

"I believe you are right," he said, and they finished their walk in silence, but it was not uncomfortable. They did not need to speak to be content. When they reached the gates, shocking the guards, Thranduil bid her a good night. She watched him walk away, giving orders to Elves as he passed them.

Was it possible that the cold Elvenking cared more than he showed?

Elves do not need to sleep like other races do. A maximum of eight hours per week usually does it, but there are two reasons why Elves sleep less. The obvious one is because of their strength, stamina and long lifespan. The second is not as simple.

As they live longer than any other creature, Elves see more death and battle and sorrow than all the other races combined. And they forget nothing. So it stands to reason that they dream more vividly and more violently than any other race.

Thranduil in particular suffered from severe nightmares, as he had watched his wife, his father and his friends die. He relived those terrible moments over and over again, never getting any true rest from his slumber. He'd wake with screams dying on his lips, tears drying on his cheeks and a heartbeat that was out of control. The only times he ever cried was in dreams. It got to the point where the king slept even less than other Elves, staying awake until he was quite literally ready to pass out, in hopes that his extreme exhaustion would banish all dreams. It never worked. And he had lucid dreams, where he knew he was dreaming but could not wake himself or change the course of the dream. He despised sleep now.

But when he fell into an exhausted slumber that night, he received a pleasant surprise.

He was walking in his halls, clad in only a uniform like his son's, a uniform he had never worn. Even when he had been the prince, he had worn the royal armor. "I wish I was a prince again, without these worries or woes," he muttered to himself, believing himself to be alone.

"I wish you were as well," a voice said, and he turned to see Linwe sitting on the duvet in the library, clad only in a long, flowing robe. "Then I would not be so hesitant to tell you how I really feel."

His mouth went dry, realizing that the robe was literally the only thing she had on, and her luscious curves were just a touch away. Unlike most Elves, she was not lean and straight, but soft and round, perfect to cuddle with, perfect to bed over and over again until she was writhing beneath him and begging for mercy.

Her gaze traveled from his lips to his pants and she smirked at what she saw.

"If you like what you see, why have you not done anything, my lord?" she asked, her soft voice coaxing. "I have not been here long, but you can't stay for what could turn out to be centuries touching yourself every night."

"If I touch you, your father will surely try to kill me," he said in a way of protest.

"I think you would be the victor in a battle," she commented. "Come. Show me what a strong and beautiful king you are." She held a hand out and he grasped it in his own, feeling her cool, soft fingers twining with his.

He quickly lost what clothing he was wearing, his erection standing proud from his hips. Her hands caressed it, ghosting over the hard muscle and bone. She leaned back, pulling him on top of her as the robe fell away, revealing her pale body.

"I never knew I could want someone as much as I want you," he said to her, squeezing her breasts beneath his hands, and letting his tongue lick along the sensitive tip of her ear. Hearing her pleased gasp made his cock twitch against her stomach.

"Then take me. Amin naa tualle."

He felt himself push into her welcoming, tight warmth, seating himself in one quick thrust. She groaned and moved her hips, trying to accommodate his size.

"Is this what you wanted?" Thranduil whispered to her as he began to move, gently at first and then faster as her juices made passage easier.

"Yes, my lord," she gasped out as he ground his hips against her. Her hands tugged at his hair and he moaned. He had forgotten how much he had enjoyed that particular sensation. He moved faster, spurred on by her cries-commands, really-for more.

As he was about to spill inside of her, he woke up in bed. His sheets were twisted and he was wet, having come in his sleep.

While the nightmares had always frightened and saddened him, never had they frustrated him like this one had.

He needed to clean this up, so that an Elven maid did not come in and think he had been with someone, which was not allowed since he had been married already.

He walked up to his mirror, seeing himself sticky with his own seed and his glamour down, so his scars were visible. His hair was as messy as it could get (which really wasn't that bad), his eyes sparkled and his face was flushed. Worst of all, he was not ashamed. Evaluating himself in this disheveled state he said to his reflection, "Amin feuya ten' lle."


	6. Chapter 6

Elves are beautiful. They are not vain, but they are proud. It is a fact in Middle Earth that there are no creatures that could compete with the Eldar in terms of physical beauty.

Thranduil's line were a bit above normal Elves in terms of physical appearance. Oropher had been a stunning king, taller than his son and broader. He commanded the attention of everyone in a room, no matter their race or sexuality. But he had none of the heart that Thranduil had, none of the delicacy of feature or warmth of touch.

Legolas, the Princeling, was quite small, like his mother, and his hair was more golden than his father's (also a gift from his mother). He was agile and the least vain of all his kin. Despite knowing he was pleasing to the eye, he was never conceited. He did not want to be known for his beauty, but for his talents with a bow and arrow.

The Elvenking himself was considered the absolute epitome of beauty. He was tall and lithe, with skin as fair and soft as silk and eyes of crystal, along with long, starlight-kissed hair. When he had been the prince, he had been much desired, and he knew it. He knew the power just a look from him had. He had never used it to his advantage sexually-that was forbidden-but he had used it to his advantage as a prince. He always got what he wanted, and what he really loved was compliments.

His appearance was arresting and everyone complimented him on his hair, his body, his cheekbones, lips and eyebrows. He was used to people, when they first meet him, being momentarily speechless after one look.

And then he fought against Gostir.

After the fight, he did something Elves rarely do: he fainted. His body and spirit were exhausted after the long, harrowing battle where he had seen his father slain, and then back home, where he held his dying wife in his arms.

The Elven healers (one of whom was Tauriel's father, which was the reason why Thranduil treated her with preference, not that he ever let anyone know that) stopped his bleeding and cleaned his wounds, assuming that the natural Elven regenerative ability would kick in once the new king had rested. They covered his face with a clean cloth to keep the wound protected from germs and kept him in a dark, cool room so his eyes could adjust.

When Thranduil woke up, the first thing he noticed, even before the pain, was that he could not see properly. Tirnel, Tauriel's father, had been sitting with him, watching to be sure that his condition did not degenerate.

"My Lord, do you know where you are? Do you remember what happened?" Tirnel asked.

"I know where I am you fool," Thranduil snapped. It was when he spoke that the pain hit him and he cried out, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears that threatened. Celeblasbes… He remembered, yes. How could he forget the horror he had just seen? "Melamin…" he gasped out, hands gripping the sheets beneath him in anger and grief. He opened his eyes again, and again he realised he was not seeing as he could.

"Tirnel, what is wrong with my left eye?" he questioned, going to reach up and feel around it.

Tirnel stopped him before he could touch the raw, bloody flesh.

"The fire, it burned me… How bad is it?" Thranduil asked, gesturing to his face and part of his ear, which hurt viciously. The pain was burning, gnawing. Any lesser creature would have been a mess without the aid of herbs, but Thranduil was a hearty Elf and could take pain. This pain, however, nearly broke him. He had never felt anything like this. It hurt even to frown.

"Tirnel? Why am I still in such pain?" Thranduil wanted to know. "Should I not have healed at least partially by now?"

"Lay still, my lord, and let me look again. Do not speak or you will agitate the injury more," Tirnel warned. He took the formerly white bandage from the king's face and couldn't hide his grimace. The flesh was not as bloody as it was, but it was not healing as it should be. The healer wondered if it was cursed, like a wound made with a morgul blade would be, but the wound showed no sign of evil influence. It was just a very deep burn. "Tanka harwar."

Defying orders, Thranduil again demanded to know what his condition was. "I have a kingdom to run. I cannot spend time convalescing. And my son, who is taking care of him?"

"He is with my daughter in the nursery, being watched by guards. Rest, my lord. You are not healing as you should be," Tirnel informed him. "It concerns me."

"I do not have time for your concerns," Thranduil said. "I have duties to perform and do not have time to rest."

"Thranduil, your son needs his ada," Tirnel said. "If you do not heal, he will be an orphan."

That got through to the Elvenking's thick skull. He let Tirnel and another Elf look at him, assessing his wounds. They did not bother hiding their concern from him.

"His hair has already grown back and his ear is healing well," the second Elf commented.

"I doubt he'll ever regain his full sight in that eye," Tirnel said with a sigh. He pressed fresh herbs used to promote skin health to the edges of the wound in the king's cheek and nothing happened, except Thranduil screamed in pain.

"Why is it so raw?" he asked.

Tirnel just stood there, confused. "I do not know. I have never seen anything like this. My lord, I have sent for Galadriel. Perhaps she will have some insight."

"I cannot wait for her," Thranduil protested.

"And you need not wait," a soft voice said and Thranduil had to turn his head to see to whom the voice belonged. And there stood Galadriel, the only Elf who ever rivaled him in beauty. Her gown was long and her face was grim as she crossed the threshold. That was when he saw the old man behind her. But it wasn't really an old man, of course.

"Mithrandir. To what do I owe this pleasure?" Thranduil asked with as much sarcasm as he could muster.

"Charming as ever, I see," the Wizard commented, stepping up to his bedside next to the Lady of Lorien. "By the Valar…" The sight of the king's burned face startled even the unflappable Istari. "That was from Gostir?"

"No, I held my wine too near the fireplace and had an accident," Thranduil scoffed. "Well? Can either of you fix this? Or at least tell me why I can't heal?"

They both examined him, and then they retreated where he could not hear to have a conversation. Through his good eye, he could tell they were concerned. Well, so was he! This was unheard of.

Eventually Mithrandir went to talk to him. He started with the obvious, "Your hair has already grown back and your ear has healed. Unfortunately, I do not believe that you'll ever regain sight in your left eye, and if you do, I doubt it will ever be the same. Eyes and hearts are the only organs Elves can't regenerate."

"Tell me something I do not know already," Thranduil said.

"Very well. Your face will never heal."

That statement got a real reaction from the king, who flew up in bed, looking even more imposing than usual with his wounds. "Mani ume lle quena, you old fool?" His heartbeat was racing and he was now very afraid.

"It may stop bleeding, and you probably won't get any infections, but your flesh will never heal," Gandalf said sadly.

"But why? Galadriel, what is the meaning of this?" Thranduil felt his nails dig into his palms, and felt his face burn with every movement his mouth made.

Galadriel took his hand gently. They were related...sort of. He had married her husband's relative, and she did consider him family in a way, despite his aversion to socialization outside of the Woodland Realm. She wanted to tell him this as gently as possible.

"It is not so much the wound that will not heal. You lost half of your heart when that fire hit you. You lost your wife. It is symbolic of that loss. You can't ever regain what is gone to the Valar." Her voice was soothing; her words, not so much.

The Elvenking was thrown into a fit of grief. He demanded to be left alone and when everyone had gone, he got up and went to a mirror. His body was fine, as if he had not just fought a war against Orcs and battle with a dragon twenty-four hours prior. But he was horrified by what he saw in the glass.

His face muscles were perfectly shown, red and raw. The skin was frayed at the edges, and it looked like a cavern in his face. He reached his hand out to touch it before remembering that it was still raw. It stopped at the edge of his mouth, went over his left eye and ended at his left temple. The other half of his cheek was untouched.

It wasn't so much as he was that vain that he couldn't handle the way he looked, though that is what everyone assumes. No, even as it pained him to see how monstrous he appeared now, that was not what caused him pain. It was knowing he was alive, when his wife had died in his arms. When he had lost everything, and yet now had to wear this constant reminder of his loss on his face for the rest of his immortal life.

"Bes," he whispered his nickname for his wife. "I failed you. I deserve this punishment and more for not protecting you." The tears that fell burned his wound, and he welcomed the pain. He was glad to have it. He deserved it and much more. He could not handle looking at his reflection anymore and his fist flew, shattering the glass and making his hand bleed.

"Amin delotha lle!" he shouted at his own reflection before he broke the mirror.

The noise brought everyone back into the room, and they realised he was in no danger except from himself. He did calm down when they entered the room, appearing as the ice king he would now become.

Gandalf was able to help him with his appearance, for which he was grudgingly grateful. He used an old world spell that Thranduil could easily keep up for himself, karn aduamin, so that his subjects would never know the pain and disfigurement he would have till his dying day.

To this day, Thranduil rarely showed his scars to any except for those occasions he wanted to intimidate his enemy. (As he would in the near future when a certain Mountain King would be held prisoner in his halls.)

But there was one more setback with concealing his face: he could not be seen in a reflective surface, lest his scars be shown plainly. Because the spell was "mirror image", that meant that being reflected would show everyone what he was hiding with simple glamour. So he took great pains to have very few mirrors in the common halls or throne room of the Woodland Realm.

Linwe knew about none of this, of course. The younger generation of Elves was kept ignorant of the trials their king went through. Only Legolas knew, and what he knew was rudimentary at best. His father never spoke of his mother or his grandfather. Had it not been for Galadriel, he might never have known about any of it.

Linwe wanted to pull her weight around the kingdom, despite Thranduil's protests. He didn't believe that a princess should be doing commoner's work, but she was insistent, so he allowed her to assist Tauriel in her duties.

Tauriel, along with being captain of the guard, was tasked with making sure all weaponry was neat, clean, and generally in order. Linwe loved learning how to keep weapons clean and sharp. That way she'd never have to count on Elrond for anything. She did not need his permission, because he need never know she was a better warrior than she was a princess.

"Beautiful," she murmured when she came upon a long, intricately engraved blade. "Which guard uses this one?"

"That's Thranduil's," Tauriel replied with a snort. "Even his weapons are gaudy. …Look, Linwe would you mind taking care of it? And bring it right to him? Last time I sharpened it, he claimed I nicked the handle. Like I could ever be so careless!"

Linwe sighed. "Calm, Tauriel. I'll take care of it for you."

"At least he won't reprimand you unnecessarily," Tauriel commented.

Linwe wanted to ask what her friend meant, but decided not to. She simply fixed up the sword and brought it to his chambers. She stopped short of entering the room, in case the king was...indisposed, as he had been the last time she'd been there.

"My lord?" she called. "I have your weapon for you." She did wonder why he needed a weapon, since he never left the halls.

"Tula," he said, and she walked into the room that was almost as large as a small town in itself. There was the bed she had seen, a hot spring made into a bath, a living area, and a workspace with a desk. Thranduil was seated at the desk, writing something.

"Where would you like me to leave this?" Linwe asked.

"Lean it in the stand near the sofa," Thranduil said, gesturing. She did so, and he turned to watch her. Despite her commoner's clothing, she still looked regal. Her circlet was in her black hair, holding it away from her fair face and she wore a single pendant with a starlight gem, the mate of which Arwen would one day give Aragorn.

She turned towards him and caught him watching her. She still wondered if the king liked having her underfoot or wished she would be gone. He was so dark, secretive, she could not read him like she could most other Elves.

"Tell me, what words would you use to describe your time here so far?" Thranduil asked. "I am writing Elrond, as he requested to be kept informed of your time here."

"Keeping a watch on me even when he is miles away," Linwe sighed. "I am...happy here, my lord. I have been here for three months now, and I have never been more content than I am here in your halls. And if Adar truly wishes to know my feelings, you may tell him that I find you to be a better ruler than he has ever been."

Thranduil's thick brows rose in amusement. "I would start a civil war were I to write him such things."

"You are the one who asked for my feelings," Linwe reminded him.

"Yes. Remind me not to do that again." Thranduil turned back to his papers, trying to hide the smirk forming on his lips.

The chair he sat in was high-backed, with purple velvet cushions and Linwe wanted to go and sit in his lap, lean his head against the cushions and kiss bruises into his pale flesh until he couldn't take it any longer. There was a window to his left, one of the few in the kingdom. They were high in the forest, and the view was breathtaking: the Long Lake, the tops of Esgaroth's dingy buildings and the peak of the Lonely Mountain. The sun shone through the glass, and somehow the effect made the surface reflective.

Linwe had to look twice to be sure that she was really seeing properly when she gasped out the king's name.

He looked up, wondering what was wrong, and he saw Linwe's already pale face ashen, her dark eyes wide open and her mouth dropped with shock. "What is it? What do you see?"

"Your face...in the glass…" She was worried, now that the shock was beginning to wear off. His face was hollow, open and raw from a wound that never healed. Was it some trick?

Thranduil closed his eyes, ashamed and embarrassed. All these years he had kept his deformity and shame hidden, and sunlight, of all things, had to sabotage his secrecy in an instant. He sighed, and slowly dropped the glamour, showing Linwe what he really looked like.

She stepped up to where he sat and faced him. He still had his eyes closed and his face was downcast in shame, looking as wounded as he felt. This was a new side of the Elvenking, a side Linwe was positive precious few ever saw. He was not the great ruler, but instead was the Elf he had been before ascending to the throne. He was so vulnerable, so sad and so very beautiful.

Not realizing just what she was doing, she gently placed her hand on the Elvenking's chin and tilted his head upwards to face her. He opened his eyes and her heart broke, seeing the white film over the left eye.

"Can you see?" she asked him.

He shook his head. "Everything is a milky white glaze. I can barely make out shadows from my left eye."

Her hand left his chin and ghosted over the wounds. They were vicious and deep, healed but forever prevalent. "Does it hurt?"

Her voice was barely a whisper, filled with a kindness and compassion Thranduil had never before heard directed at him. It went straight to his heart like an arrow, and he felt a weight there as if he wanted to cry.

"It is but a dull ache now. At times I do not even feel it," he replied, lying. It was a constant, itchy burn that he felt even in sleep. That was his sentence for not being a better son and husband: eternal pain and irritation.

He felt her cool palm cup his good cheek, her fingers tracing the skin she had always wondered about. His skin was as soft as it looked, the cheekbones sharp beneath the softness. This was not normal behavior for Elves: it was too intimate. Thranduil felt stifled by the closeness, but he would never dare to dream to ask her to move away from him. Despite being unused to the close proximity, this soft touch was welcome and sweet, as comforting as mead in the cold winter months.

"Can no one heal it?" she asked her voice even softer. He shook his head no. Her thumb traced small circles on his cheek, sending pleasant shivers through his body. They never lost eye contact. Her other hand came to rest in his hair, twining the silken strands between her fingers.

"Everyone has tried. It is my penance," Thranduil said, barely able to get the words out. He had never felt like this before. In fact, he didn't think that any Elf ever had. He had never been touched so sweetly and tenderly before, and he had never, ever felt such love in his heart.

Linwe wanted to ask what it was penance for, but didn't want to pry any more than she had. This moment was surreal, beautiful, and she knew it would not last forever. She didn't want to waste it talking. She had gotten a glimpse into the locked soul of her king, and she wanted nothing more than to heal all of his wounds, physical and emotional.

Thranduil put one hand on the small of her back and the other played with her long, dark hair. Her skin was warm through the thin clothing, inviting. He knew all he needed to do was stand up and walk her a few yards to the bed and she would not protest, but something stopped him. This moment was more sacred than sex; they were sharing an even deeper bond, if that were possible.

The sunlight came through the window, turning her pendant into starlight, and reflecting in his one good eye, making it sparkle like a jewel.

"Do you think badly of me now?" he asked her quietly.

"Badly? Why would I? Because you were once injured?" Linwe's thumb traced his pouty, pink bottom lip. "You are a brave warrior, my king. I respect you even more for soldiering on even though you are in constant pain." Yes, she knew he had been lying. There was no way that this scar did not still hurt him.

He took her hand in his, letting go of her hair, and kissed the palm softly, eliciting a soft gasp from the princess. He looked up at her and she felt her heartbeat continue to speed up. He let her hand go and cupped her face in his hand. He was about to pull her down and finally feel her lips on his when they both heard Tauriel in the hall, calling Linwe's name.

It broke the spell they were under, and Thranduil released Linwe from his grasp, putting his glamour back up and looking as perfect as he always did, save for a light blush across his cheeks.

"You must go," he said, his voice hiding all of his regrets. He was the cold Elvenking again, all traces of the Elf she had just been with vanishing in a split second.

She nodded, and bowed to him before leaving his chambers, her mask also in place. How alike we are, melamin, she thought as she entered the hallway, meeting the guard Elf and halting her frantic search.

"What happened? I thought perhaps you had gotten in trouble," Tauriel said worriedly.

"No. Thranduil was writing a letter to Adar, and he asked me to add a few lines," Linwe lied easily. Tauriel continued to talk, but Linwe was not listening. Her mind was instead on soft skin and even softer lips that had touched her just moments ago.

That was my chance, she thought. What if I never get another?

Thranduil held his head in his hands, his skin on fire with desire and his heart racing. While he was ashamed of himself for his actions and his thoughts, he was regretful that that lowly Elf had to come and ruin the most magical moment he had ever had.

He had never laid himself bare like that emotionally. What had happened in those moments? He checked the sun. It had barely been fifteen minutes, if that, but it had felt like an eternity for him. What had Linwe felt? What was she feeling now? Had he only had another few minutes to speak to her...

Note to self, he thought, have someone install a door on my chambers!


	7. Chapter 7

"Not all Elves hate Dwarves," Linwe was saying to Tauriel as they ate supper one evening. Tauriel had been commenting on the differences between the races when she had said that Elves and Dwarves were forever sundered.

"Don't let the king hear you say that," she said with a laugh.

"I assume he is of the ilk that do not care for Dwarrows?" Linwe questioned.

"He hates them more than most. Of course, I do not know why, but Legolas might," Tauriel said.

"Legolas might what?" the prince asked, coming to sit with the two women.

"Know why your ada can't stand the naugrim," Linwe said. She held up a bottle of wine and offered it to the prince. He noticed it was some of the best Dorwinion and wondered is his father had given it to her or she had simply taken it.

He accepted the wine and said, "Whatever it was, it happened centuries ago, when I was barely an Elfling. You know he tells me little."

After they ate they were going to "train" outside, but the king called Tauriel and Legolas to the throne room, and Linwe followed, having little else to do. Besides, she was curious.

"The patrol guards informed me that there are trespassers along the Elven Path. Many of them. The two of you, get a squadron together and go. Bring them to me. Preferably alive. The Elves who are on patrol made the path disappear but I would rather find out who dares cross into my lands than just let them rot out there. They need to be taught a lesson."

Seated there on his high throne, long legs crossed and head leaning back onto the wood-carved antlers (contrary to popular belief, they were not real) and long hair glistening in the light, those words that were meant to sound menacing sounded very...suggestive to Linwe. She had to swallow around a lump in her throat before speaking.

"And what about me, my lord?"

Thranduil looked down at her, his expression bland. "What about you?"

"May I not go, too?" she asked. "I could be of help."

The king shook his head, silky hair caressing his neck as he moved. "No, you may not. You have not yet had sufficient enough training under my guard for me to be comfortable sending you into battle. You may, however, help prepare cells. At least a dozen. And alert the guards to be prepared."

"Yes, my lord," she said, bowing and walking away.

Thranduil watched her go, torn between two different types of anxiety. One was at his intruders, of course. It had been a very long time since anyone aside from Orc filth had trespassed on his land. The other source of worry was with Linwe. He had, of course, witnessed the princess training with Tauriel and knew that she was just playing along with him. She could fight as well as his own son could. And he was not forbidding her to go because he was playing along as well. No, he was putting his foot down for another reason: he was worried. If these intruders were well-armed, or perhaps the spiders came along, she could be hurt or worse.

He hated being so vulnerable, with his heart now on the line again for the first time in two thousand years. But he could not lie to himself: he cared for Linwe. And he would keep her safe if he could.

It was four hours before Tauriel and Legolas returned, the Elven army capturing...thirteen Dwarves! She helped them put some of them in their prisons, tuning her ears out from their curses. Dwarves claim not to care at all about Elves, but they sure learned enough Sindarin to curse them! They were also covered in spiderwebs, so apparently they had been confronted by the Ungoliants.

She went to Thranduil to let him know who they had captured-a grey-bearded little one had given away the leader's name accidentally-and she witnessed her king's face drain of what little color it had.

"Bring the thaurer to me immediately," he said. He never ordered Linwe around, but the princess could tell that he was incensed with anger and so she didn't take offense. She went to find another guard and walked to the leader's cell.

"Thorin Oakenshield?" she said and he looked up at her, his glaring blue eyes making her feel somehow at fault for his predicament. "To your feet." Stubbornly, he just sat there in the corner of the tiny cell. "Either get up and come willingly or I will drag you out myself, do you hear me?"

Something in her look or the sound of her voice got through to him and he did stand. She gripped one of his arms and Feren, the guard, gripped the other. He did not fight them as they led him to the throne room, and Linwe had to wonder who this Dwarf was and what he had done to Thranduil. Thankfully, she could stick around to watch and listen.

"Some may say a noble quest at hand: a quest to reclaim a homeland and slay a dragon. I myself however suspect a more...prosaic motive. Attempted burglary, perhaps, or something of that ilk." Thranduil stalked around Thorin like a predator. "You have found a way in. You seek that which will bestow upon you the right to rule. The King's Jewel; the Arkenstone. It is precious to you beyond measure." Thranduil's face softened and most would think he was being conciliatory. Linwe knew better. This was just another mask to get him what he wanted. "I understand that. There are gems in the mountain that I, too, desire. White gems of pure starlight."

Really? He's mad at Thorin because the Dwarf has some jewelry? Linwe thought. There has to be a deeper reason than that. Perhaps the gems were stolen from him? Linwe was pleased that her king was offering the Dwarf (who must be a prince ready for coronation, judging by the discourse she had heard) a deal. She did not like seeing these Dwarves-some of whom must be quite old for their kind- trapped in cells simply because they needed a shortcut to their destination.

But the Dwarrow had the nerve, not just to insult the king and do so in a voice which ensured that half the kingdom heard, but to threaten him and wish him a death due to dragonfire? Linwe wanted to jump in a defend the king, but she knew better. Thranduil had it handled.

She was surprised that Thranduil showed him his scars. Apparently they were from a dragon, which he had not told her. But he was certainly intimidating under normal circumstances, and the scar's effect made it much worse. She could see that Thorin was a little more disconcerted than he had been.

He dismissed Thorin, letting Linwe and Feren take him back to the cell. She tossed him in unceremoniously and walked away, witnessing a sight that gave her cause for amusement: Tauriel being flirted with by one of the Dwarves! And what's worse, Legolas was watching, thinking himself hidden. Was the prince jealous of a Dwarf? Really? She had always thought that he liked Tauriel as more than a friend, and it looked like she was right.

I bet he never thought he'd have to compete with someone a foot shorter and that much harier than he, she thought amusedly.

Linwe went to Thranduil, to see if he was well and possibly to get some information out of him. He was drinking at a table in the throne room, writing out a scroll of spider vanquishing plans. She just watched him, knowing that his calm exterior belied the turmoil that must be inside of him.

"My lord?" He looked up, letting a small smile caress his lip

s. "Linwe. May I help you?" He put his quill down and looked at her.

"I was wondering if you were well, my lord. The confrontation with Thorin seemed to unsettle you for a moment, and I was just concerned." She kept eye contact with him, knowing he appreciated it. While keeping her head down would be a show of respect, maintaining eye contact would let him know she was not afraid of him. He would appreciate the challenge more than the respect.

"Perceptive as always, aren't we?" he said. "I am fine. Thank you for your concern."

She did not leave, as most would. Instead, she had questions that deserved answers. "Who is Thorin and what is the Arkenstone? Why do the two of you dislike one another?"

Thranduil closed his eyes, gathering his patience. "Linwe, did you ever hear of the great Dwarf kingdom of Erebor?"

"Erebor...the Lonely Mountain. You have a view of it from your chambers, isn't that right?" Linwe said.

He nodded. "Until sixty years ago, it was the greatest kingdom of Dwarrows. But the the dragon Smaug came and overtook it, causing half the kingdom's deaths. The ones who survived had to leave and make new homes for themselves. Thorin's grandfather, King Thror, was the one who caused the kingdom to fall."

"You said you told him what his greed would summon. Why did he not listen?"

Thranduil waved a dismissive hand. "It is called dragon sickness. It only affects Dwarves, because they covet gold over everything else."

"And the jewels you mentioned? Forgive my prying, but I do not like being left in the dark over such matters. I am in your kingdom; I should know what's going on," she said.

"The jewel you wear, the one your sister has the mate to...those starlight gems are very precious to the Eldar, as you well know. What you might not know is that they are incredibly difficult to make. Our people do not mine or hew or work metals. So, we must rely on others to make them for us. I had commissioned Thror's ancestor to make certain jewels for me...for my wife. This was long ago. Legolas was an Elfling and you might not have even been born yet. They had not finished making them by the time my wife had passed. Thror himself had been the one to finish the jewels. Though my wife was no longer with us, I still wanted the gems. I had sent an emissary ahead of me to give payment to the Dwarves, and by the time I had gotten there I expected to have my gems.

"But the dragon sickness had already begun to take hold on the king, and he insisted that I had not paid him enough. He refused to give me what I had paid for. It was then I had told him what was happening to him. The Arkenstone should never have been unearthed and it cast upon that kingdom a curse which could never be broken. The dragon was attracted to that greed. I gave Thror a chance by telling him what he needed to do, but he did not heed my warning." Thranduil gave an elegant shrug. "So I left them to their fate. I did my part and they would not listen."

Linwe's heart went out to her king. How he must still miss his wife! While she thought that Thror had been a greedy, evil king, Thorin was not his grandfather. She felt that Thranduil should not punish the grandson for the grandfather's sins. She did not say that, however.

"Thorin...he's going to try and get back to Erebor? Won't he wake the dragon?" she asked.

Thranduil arched an eyebrow. "Now do you see why I am holding him prisoner? Better he die in here than kill us all."

Linwe nodded. That was understandable, but she also felt that it was not Thranduil's choice to make. He could not control others' lives as if he were one of the Valar. She would let him cool down before broaching the subject with him again.

"Thank you for the information, my lord. I will go and assist Feren with the celebration preparations," she said, bowing to him. It was the Feast Of Starlight, and the parties were already beginning in their halls. She had never taken part in the event, because the Elves of Imladris preferred sunlight to starlight.

"Send Tauriel in to me if you see her," he said, before he began to write again.

Linwe exited, found Tauriel and then went to the cellars to assist. Like the king, her version of assistance was to simply order around the Silvan Elves carrying barrels of food and wine, and she knew Thranduil appreciated her take charge personality.

When she was sure they were doing everything right (and had properly admonished Feren and the Elf who kept the keys to the prisons for drinking too much of the king's wine), she went to check on the prisoners. Most of them were asleep, but at Thorin's cell, she was greeted with a sight that nearly made her faint: there was someone outside his cell doors!

Hiding herself in the shadows, she observed and listened. The creature was tiny, maybe only a little over four feet tall, with honey curls and wearing what looked like a red velvet, well-cut suit. He had no beard, so he was not a Dwarf. She then saw his abnormally large and hairy feet and realised he was a Hobbit, a Halfling as the Elves deemed them. How had he gotten in and what was he doing with Thorin?

"I knew you would come," Thorin said, his face and voice softer than she had heard it. "How did you get past the Elves?"

"Don't worry about that. Are you well? You are not hurt?" the Hobbit asked, his voice filled with worry.

Thorin shook his head. "Just my pride, Bilbo."

Linwe saw that their hands were linked through the bars, the Hobbit (Bilbo, she reminded herself) gripping with a bit more desperation than the Dwarf was. They had nearly a foot of height difference and were the picture of tortured lovers.

"I was so worried, Thorin," Bilbo said. "I thought they might hurt you. I thought I might be too late to save you."

"But you are not too late. I have every faith that you will get us out of here," Thorin said. He used one hand to brush against the Hobbit's curls and settle there. "My little burglar."

Linwe felt herself blush a little as the Dwarf king bent his head and kissed the little Hobbit through the bars, his long, matted hair obscuring the other man. Thorin reached his arms through the bars to pull Bilbo as close as possible, gripping the fabric of his shirt as if for dear life. She heard Bilbo whimper into the kiss.

"You must go. Hide. I cannot bear to see you prisoner, too," Thorin whispered.

"I don't want to leave you," Bilbo admitted, his head down and tears beginning to spill down his cheeks.

Thorin tilted Bilbo's chin up with one finger and gave him the softest, sweetest kiss Linwe had ever seen; full of love and light. Her breath caught, picturing Thranduil kissing her like that one day, his perfect pout melting against her lips like they were meant for each other only.

With one last, longing look, Bilbo left Thorin's side. Linwe wanted to spy and see what the king was feeling, but she had bigger fish to fry. In truth, she should have caught up with the Hobbit and imprisoned him as well. Her head told her that that was what Thranduil would've wanted. But her head knew better. She loved her king, but he was not always the wisest man. She followed the Hobbit and saw him reach into his pocket for something. Noticing the sword at his hip, she would not let him draw yet another weapon if, in fact, that was his intent.

She drew her dagger and pressed it gently against his back, saying, "If you make a sound, I'll put this right through your back. Get that hand out of your pocket and it had better be empty."

He went rigid, and she could hear his teeth chattering. He did do as she said, so that was good.

"Who are you, Bilbo? What are you doing in this kingdom, fraternizing with our prisoners?" she asked.

"I-I-I...I was traveling with them," he squeaked, slowly turning to face Linwe.

"How were you not captured with them? And how did you enter the Woodland Realm unseen? That has not happened in six thousand years," she said.

"I am quite small, you see, and…" he trailed off. She did not believe him, but let that go as he continued to talk. "Please, I do not want trouble. Please, let me go."

"So you can roam around unseen in Elven lands? You are lucky that the king did not catch you. You'd be with the Valar by now, certainly. Why should I let you go?"

Bilbo looked down at his feet again. "You should not. I am an intruder. But you should not leave Thorin locked up! He is only trying to go home! Please, let him go home."

The vehemence in his voice made Linwe smile. He was protecting his love as she would have protected hers. "Will that home be your home as well?" she asked.

He nodded, blushing.

"Come with me," she said, grabbing him roughly by the sleeve and taking him with her down into the cellars. Very few Elves were about, as they were at the treetops and beyond, celebrating. They hid at the top of the stairs and she said, "Those keys on the hook, they open the cells your Dwarves are in. If you can remain unseen for at least an hour, these guards will be completely oblivious, as they have been sneaking too much of Lord Thranduil's Dorwinion even after I told them not to. Once they have passed into drunken stupor, you should be able to free your friends."

Bilbo looked up at her, eyes bright and confused. "Why are you helping me? Or will you have Elves waiting to kill us as we escape? Oh, how I wish I had gone back to Rivendell!"

"Rivendell?" Linwe asked, surprised. "You have met with Lord Elrond?"

Bilbo nodded. "He helped us read our map, but he said we should not have continued with the quest."

"Sounds like him. Give you everything and then tell you that you cannot use anything," Linwe scoffed. "Do you see those empty barrels?" She pointed and he nodded. "Usually there are fourteen, but we're one short today. You can just squeeze in Thorin's barrel with him." She winked. "Get the Dwarves inside and pull that lever. There's a bargeman who picks them up later in the day, and the river will take you quite close to Esgaroth. Perhaps you can ride with him into the town. He is a nice Man."

"Again, why are you helping me?" Bilbo asked.

Placing her hand on his she said, "I know what it is like to want to save the one you love, to do everything you can to protect them and watch them succeed. So go save him." She left Bilbo then, praying she had done the right thing and that Thranduil would not find out it was she who had aided an enemy to escape.


	8. Chapter 8

Thranduil was incensed that the Dwarves escaped, but as everyone blamed the drunken keeper of the keys, Linwe was off the hook. The king could not be angry for long, because as the Dwarves made their escape, a band of Orcs came and attacked them, killing guard Elves as they went by.

Tauriel and Legolas immediately went into action, along with other members of the guard. Linwe immediately went to help as well, but Thranduil ordered her to stay. "This situation is much too dangerous for you," he said.

"There are Orcs killing our people!" she said. "I should be down there, helping fight them off."

Thranduil shook his head. "I only told Legolas to fight as long as they are in our lands. They are here for the Dwarves, not for us. Let them go after the fools-they do not matter to me. I do not want them on my property!"

His face was impassive as always, but his eyes had darkened. He was angry and he was afraid. For the king to be afraid, Linwe knew that whatever was going on was serious. She was allowed to listen in as Legolas and Thranduil questioned the Orc they had captured (after watching Tauriel be ordered to leave), and even she became frightened at what the creature was saying. What was coming? What war? Thranduil was terrified as he decapitated the Orc before he could spew any more of his vile words.

He looked up at Linwe and told her to have the watch doubled at the borders, and she did as she was told. Normally, she would have gone to Tauriel to tell her, but the Elf was nowhere to be found. She met up with Legolas at the gate, and he told her that Tauriel had gone after the Orcs.

"I must follow. I know she will never care for me like I care for her, but I cannot imagine leaving her all alone to hunt thirty Orcs," he said.

Linwe held her hand over her heart, an Elven version of a hug. "I admire you, Legolas. Go. I will deal with your adar."

"Diola lle," he said, returning the gesture. He left then, going after the woman he loved.

Linwe went back inside, thinking about how Legolas was brave enough to go after what he wanted, even when Tauriel was so obviously taken with the Dwarf prince, Kili. How a little Hobbit had managed to command the heart of the Dwarf king. She however, could not bring herself to tell Thranduil how she felt out of fear of rejection. Why was she so weak in this aspect, yet so strong with all others. Perhaps it was because life had never prepared her for this. She had not been prepared for love, and when she found it, it hit her in the chest like an arrow.

Her father talked about honor. It was not honor and respect that was the greatest thing you could feel or give to another. No, those paled in comparison to love. Love was feeling another's pain as though it's your own, it is longing to take away all the fear and all the hurt they have and fill up those empty spaces with your own love.

The time between Legolas and Tauriel taking off and Thranduil deciding to lead his army into the Misty Mountains was filled with tension. Thranduil was on edge, angry and fearful. He had ordered two executions, something the hadn't done in two thousand years. He was angry with Tauriel for disobeying his orders, and furious with his son for running off without permission. And, above all, he was scared. Linwe did not know, but it was she he feared for.

His last dealings with a dragon had left him a widow and an orphan. He was afraid that this dragon would swoop in like Gostir and somehow take Legolas and Linwe from him. He had lost his father and his wife. He could not bear to lose his son and his...whatever Linwe was. He had not faded after Celeblasbes died because of Legolas. He began to live again because of Linwe. Now Legolas was more than grown, and did not seem to care as much for his ada as he once did. Thranduil suspected Legolas would be leaving soon, and all he would have left was Linwe. He did not want to lose her. His heart could not bear it.

While Thranduil had seen too much death, the Grim Reaper had not yet touched Linwe's life. Her mother had died when she was a baby, so it didn't affect her like it had her siblings. She was worried and had a very bad feeling. She did not have her father's foresight, but she had her mother's intuition. She knew they would be needed at Erebor. And she had a terrible feeling that death would be there to greet them when they arrived.

In the library, Linwe prepared a very risky spell. She knew she would need it, for someone. She worked hard, begging the Valar to not let her have to use it.

One morning not long after the prisoners escaped, the could see and smell the fire from Smaug attacking Esgaroth. Linwe was worried for Bard and his children, but even more so for poor little Bilbo. What if he or Thorin had been hurt? It would be like losing one's half of their heart.

"We must go," Thranduil said suddenly, staring out at the inferno. "Legolas is there, and we must stop that foul thing before it comes here, to the Woodland Realm. Linwe, tell my army to ready themselves. I will take my son home...and take back what is rightfully mine."

Linwe went to ready the army, but stopped and turned back to her king. "My lord, you must forgive my impertinence, but I will not allow you to leave me behind as if I were some fragile child. While I am a part of your kingdom, I will fight alongside you."

Thranduil had to again hide his amusement and his adoration. Linwe was certainly audacious. "Are you attempting to command me, princess?"

"I am not attempting any such thing, my king," she replied. "I am merely telling you I will be joining you. That's all." She went to leave, so as not to anger him any more than she already had, but he called her back. When she looked up at him, his hard eyes had warmed and he smiled.

"I will have armor laid out for you upon your return to your chambers, as long as you do not mind wearing the insignia of this kingdom," he said.

Linwe bowed, her face flushed. "I would be honored to wear it, Thranduil."

Setting up tents in the fields surrounding the Lonely Mountain, Thranduil called a meeting with the Istari Mithrandir and the only person Esgaroth could call a leader, Bard.

Linwe had a throne next to the king's, though she was not staying in his tent. She watched Bard greet Thranduil with more than a hint of the normal awe mortals showed the Elvenking. She smirked to herself, seeing that the Man was obviously smitten. It was quite cute.

What amused her even more was his expression when Thranduil introduced her to Bard, and he realised that the woman he had thought was a common Elf was really a royal, apparently the king's equal. His face paled three shades and his eyes were like saucers, but he kept silent.

Negotiations were at a heated peak when there was a weird noise and the tent's flap opened. Standing there was the little Hobbit, whom Gandalf greeted much more warmly than Thranduil did. Linwe was not sure how he knew Bilbo was the one who had helped the Company escape, but he did.

When Bilbo was finally admitted further into the tent, he saw Linwe and she was very pleased that he did not even make a peep about her. Their secret was safe, and would always be. He was simple, but not an imbecile.

Linwe smiled at him and said, "Master Baggins, what brings you here? Why are you not with Thorin?"

That was how Bilbo went into his explanations about the gold sickness and why he had brought them the Heart of the Mountain. Linwe and Gandalf, the slightly more intuitive of the four people in the tent, knew what it really represented: he had stolen Thorin's heart. Beneath Bilbo's coat peeked a shirt of mithril, the most expensive and rare metal the Dwarves had ever mined. The metal that was saved for Dwarvish proposals. For Bilbo to have brought them Thorin's heart behind his back meant that he was prepared to die for his love.

After making plans for the next day, Gandalf left to find Bilbo a bed, and Linwe was ordered to leave by Thranduil. She was tasked to find Legolas and Tauriel upon waking, while he would be going to Thorin alongside Bard for negotiations. Bard, he said, was needed to stay for further planning.

Linwe saw Bard pale at that, nervous. "Don't worry-he doesn't bite...more's the pity," she whispered to him with a smirk before leaving the tent.

Elven laws and customs were not set in stone, but they were never questioned. What Thranduil felt for Linwe was considered immoral, especially for a king. However, there were no laws set against those of the same sex coupling, because it was impossible for children to be begat by such relations. If children and marriage were not issues, they felt no need to regulate such things.

The term "bisexual" had not been coined at that point in time, but if it had, Thranduil, Bard, Fili and Kili would have fit the bill perfectly. Thranduil could easily get aroused by other males, though he had no intention of ever falling for one. His heart already belonged to Linwe, whether the Eldar liked it or not. His body, however, needed more immediate attention. Lord Bard seemed to be the perfect vessel, if the way he stared at Thranduil was any indication.

"Excuse me if I sound rude, my lord, but what else do we need to discuss?" Bard asked, sitting back down with another half glass of Dorwinion in his hand.

Thranduil could easily see that he was uncomfortable in his seat due to his arousal. "It is actually a different set of business altogether," he replied, sweeping his long robes back as he leaned back in his throne, giving Bard a good look at what he was sporting in his leggings. "I won't beat about the bush here. I have certain needs I cannot have met by the Elf I would prefer, due to certain Elven laws I don't quite care to tell you about. Unless I miss my guess, you would happily meet those needs for me."

Thranduil enjoyed watching Bard squirm in his seat. There was nothing sexier than a strong, confident man being brought to his knees-both literally and metaphorically-before him. This would certainly not be the first male he'd bedded since Celeblasbes had passed (usually out of frustration rather than arousal, if truth be told), but Bard would be the first mortal.

"My lord, I am not sure I understand what you want," Bard said nervously.

"Of course you do," Thranduil replied. "But in case you are not being purposely obtuse, let me lay it out there for you: I want you on your knees before me and then later on, on my bed, beneath me. Do you understand now, you silly little mortal?"

Bard swallowed hard. "You cannot mean that. Surely, you're just playing with my mind."

"I assure you, I am not. I have no time for games. What I do have is an erection that will not go away thanks to that infuriatingly alluring Elfling that just left, and a spectacularly handsome Man willing to take care of it for me." He stood up, walked over to where Bard sat, and pulled him up to meet his lips in a fast and heated kiss.

Bard was an inadequate replacement for Linwe, sure, but as of right then Thranduil would have taken Thorin if the Dwarf had been there!

"Are you sure? You are not drunk, are you?" Bard asked worriedly. The last thing he wanted was to have Thranduil sober up and kill him for his indiscretion.

"I cannot get drunk," he replied simply, his long fingers going to the ties on Bard's shirt. He undid the strings, loosening it and revealing his pale, lightly haired chest. Taking Bard's hands in his own, he led him to the fastenings on his robes and, while it took Bard a few tries, he finally got the robes off of Thranduil, revealing his perfect, pale skin. Thranduil saw the hungry look in Bard's eyes and he coaxed him into their first kiss.

Bard's lips were full but a little weatherbeaten. His goatee scratched against the hairless Elven face but it was a rather pleasant sensation. Thranduil thrust his tongue into the new king's mouth and ran his hands in Bard's curls, pretending they were Linwe's black silk locks.

He let go of Bard's hair and started to unlace his leggings, letting his straining cock free. Bard felt its hard heat against his stomach and he moved away, letting Thranduil slip the leggings down to his ankles. He stepped out of them and out of his boots swiftly, letting Bard take in his magnificence. Caressing Bard's cheek he said, "On your knees, my king."

Bard did as he was told, slowly moving closer to the Elf's impressive length, which was pulsing and as hard as marble. His heart was pounding and, dare he admit it, his mouth was watering as he reached and gave Thranduil a tentative lick. The Elf thrust his hips and Bard took the tip into his mouth, slowly started to suck. He heard Thranduil moan and his own cock twitched in response. He got bolder, and started to bob his head up and down the length, tasting the sweet saltiness of Thranduil's flesh.

The Elf grabbed his long dark hair to hold his head still as he started to fuck his mouth, slowly at first but quickly speeding up, testing the limits of his gag reflex. Elves can last for hours, sometimes a day, but mortals couldn't, so Thranduil sped up, and in moments Bard felt hot, salty cum spilling down his throat. He swallowed what he could, though a dribble came down his chin.

Thranduil pulled him up and licked his own cum from the Man's face. He pressed himself against Bard and Bard could feel how hard he still was. There wasn't a bed in the tent, but there was a nice sofa for reclining, and Thranduil turned Bard around and shoved him face-first onto the soft fabric. Bard had never been treated like this and he found that the Elf's roughness was arousing him even more.

He felt the cold tip of a finger pressing against his entrance and it slipped in with minimal resistance. It was followed by a second finger and, by the time Thranduil added a third. Bard was writhing in pleasure-pain, begging him to fuck him properly.

"Such foul language for a king," Thranduil purred in his ear as he pulled his fingers out. A moment later, Bard felt something much larger than a finger pressing against his barely stretched entrance. "Tell me again what you want, Lord Bard."

Bard gasped as Thranduil began to rub the tip teasingly against his hole. "I want you inside of me, my lord. Make me scream your name. Fuck me."

Thranduil chuckled. "As you wish." Without any further warning, the whole of his length was thrust into Bard's hole, burning and rubbing and making him feel a million things at once. Thranduil started slowly and then built up momentum, and all Bard knew was that this felt fucking amazing as he moaned and begged for more.

Thranduil gripped Bard's lean hips and angled him upwards, allowing the Elf's long cock to hit his prostate dead on. Bard cried out, and pushed his ass back to feel it even more. Thranduil continued his hammering so hard, Bard was sure he'd be in pain riding his horse the next day.

He gripped his own throbbing cock in his hand and it only took a few pumps for him to cum in great, long spurts. As his muscles clenched around Thranduil, Thranduil came inside of him, spilling his hot seed deep inside and Bard moaned, too weak to do much else.

Thranduil pulled out of him and gave him a look of amusement mixed with admiration. "One of my guards will show you out in case there are any Orcs about. Goodnight, Dragonslayer."

After Bard left, Thranduil sat in his throne, hating himself for wishing to have been with Linwe instead of a stand-in.

The next day was when Bilbo was nearly killed by Thorin, Thorin refused to deal with Bard and Thranduil and the Battle of the Five Armies was waged and finished in a bloody mess.

Linwe was not exempt from battle, as the enemy was everywhere. Her sword, which had never seen battle, was now soaked in blood, as was her armor. Thankfully, unlike much of Mirkwood's army, she was mostly unharmed. She knew her task was to find Legolas, but she could not help herself: she was looking for Thranduil. She was terrified that he might be hurt. Never in her life had she imagined such carnage and depravity was possible. As she looked through the Elven corpses, she saw him, swinging his sword and slaying all in his path. As she was in a secluded doorway, she was able to take one previous moment to appreciate his beauty in battle.

His hair shone, his sword bit flesh and drew blood. He was determined, and as graceful a fighter as he was a king. If it was possible she loved him even more for his prowess in battle.

As she was admiring him, she saw an Orc coming from an odd angle, out of the king's line of sight. Terrified that he would be killed, she rushed forward, swinging her blade in a wide arc and lopping off the ugly head of the would-be killer.

The movement startled Thranduil, but he calmed when he saw that it was Linwe who had just possibly saved his life. His smile was fleeting, but beautiful. "My Lady. You have my gratitude."

Linwe shook her head, blushing. "You owe me no gratitude, my lord. I could not...would not let it hurt you. I vowed when I joined your army to protect you as well as I could." She gave a small bow.

He tucked his hand beneath her chin and lifted her head up. "Remember, you are my equal. You need never bow to me unless it is my wish."

She nodded, too afraid of what she might say to speak. Her heart was racing and ready to overflow with her emotions. She needed to extricate herself from the situation as fast as possible. "I remember. I must take my leave. I think I saw Legolas. I will tell him to come to you."

She walked away and that was when she did finally complete her mission. "Legolas! Your father is insistent he see you. He is worried, mellon-nin."

Legolas scoffed. "Like he ever cared about me. All he cares about is my being a suitable heir to the kingdom!"

"That's not true!" Linwe cried. "He might run a tight ship, but that is because he cares about his subjects-yourself included."

"And what about Tauriel?" he asked angrily. "He banished her!"

"I cannot speak for his feelings regarding her. But I can tell you he loves you. You are his son. Do not forsake him, Legolas," Linwe warned.

"Linwe, I do like you. You are brave and smart. Do not let him fool you. There is nothing behind that cold exterior except for more ice and marble," the prince snapped before walking away.

Linwe walked away, wondering what was going to happen. The small vision she had haunted her, reminding her she was still needed...somewhere. It was not until after Legolas had left and the battle had been won that she saw the gathering of mourners on Ravenhill. The Line of Durin had fallen.

Tauriel was weeping, holding onto Sigird, Bard's oldest daughter. Bilbo was at the side of Thorin's corpse, still holding his hand. He face was impassive and tearstained. She saw blood on his coat and realised it was Thorin's. All of the company was weeping as well, mourning the loss of their king and heirs.

Thranduil was also watching with a grim look on his face. "So terrible," he said to Linwe. "I warned him, just like I warned his grandfather. Why do they insist on being so stubborn?"

"It is their nature," Linwe replied, her face set and determined. "This is not right. No one deserves to suffer so long and then never get to claim his rightful place in the world." She stepped forward, and Thranduil called her back. She did not listen, however, knowing that the spells she had prepared were needed now.

"What are you doing?" Mithrandir asked, his face ashen. "Linwe, if you do what I think you will, you-"

"I know," she cut him off. "I will lose three hundred years of life. A small price to pay, I assure you. Now out of my way." She gently shoved him aside and went to sit next to Bilbo, who looked up in surprise. "Stand back, Master Baggins," she said, her tone brooking no disobedience. Bilbo moved aside and Linwe laid her hands over Thorin's wounds. The killing blow had been a sword straight through the abdomen, a slow and painful way to die.

Everyone watching saw her hold her bare hands to the bloody flesh. They saw them glow white, the spirit of starlight within her coming free. Her eyes also glowed white, an unusual occurrence. Her voice, sweet and clear, said one spell, a spell that was rarely used for its ill effects: each time an Elf used it, they lost a century of life: "Entula tuulo' i'ba". Resurrection.

She repeated the spell two more times, on Fili and Kili. When she was done, she backed away, her body feeling quite weak. Arms wrapped around her and she saw Thranduil was holding her to his chest.

"Why did you do that?" he asked, sounding angry.

"I had a vision," she replied. "And I do not like to see people mourn their loved ones prematurely."

His breath was on her ear, his hands enclosing her waist. It was a pleasant place to be, despite her current weakness. "I am very proud to know you, Linwe Helyanwe. Cormlle naa tanya tel'raa, arwenamin."

Oin went up to the bodies, and he exclaimed with tears in his eyes, "They are alive! Thorin, Fili and Kili are alive!"


	9. Chapter 9

Elves are not necessarily "immortal". No one really knew how long and Elf could live. Time had not yet shown them that. So for an Elf to throw away three hundred years in a matter of minutes, it was a shocking gesture. A gracious and selfless gesture.

When Thranduil saw what Linwe intended to do, his heart wept at the sheer kindness of it. It was something not even Celeblasbes would have considered doing. Life is precious to Elves, and they were not willing to give it away, but Linwe was. He held her in his arms as she regained her strength, and he could feel her heartbeat in his own chest. He wanted nothing more than to kiss her, show her his admiration and love. He could not, of course. He knew the day was coming when his emotional dam would break and he would not be able to restrain himself, but right then he still had some semblance of self-control.

He felt her tremble against him as her strength slowly returned.

"Bilbo," she called, and the little Hobbit walked over to her and the Elvenking. "They might wake soon, but I would leave them sleep for a day. Coming back from the other side is not easy, and their spirits need to adjust to their flesh once again. They should not be alone. Someone needs to sit with each of them and be sure they are not waking up confused or frightened."

"Of course I will sit with Thorin," Bilbo said, his voice watery. "I can't thank you enough for what you just did, my lady."

Linwe waved a nonchalant hand. "It is nothing. Be happy, that is all I ask. They have another hundred years each here in Middle Earth. Do not waste that time."

"I won't." Bilbo looked back where Oin was still examining Thorin with warm eyes. "You just gave me back...everything."

She smiled, but her eyes closed and she leaned even more into Thranduil. "Linwe," he said. "Let me take you back to your tent. You need to rest."

She nodded, complacent. She could have walked on her own, he knew that, but he pretended she needed more help than she really did and carried her in his arms, her head nestled against his shoulder and her one arm around his neck. He felt her warmth through his armor and he'd be lying to himself if he didn't bury his face for a moment in her hair and inhale her unique scent.

He deposited her on the sofa in her tent and she looked up at him with wide, sleepy eyes.

"My lord?"

"Yes?"

"The feud between Elves and Dwarves ends here. I have seen it."

"You have made it," he corrected. "You will be remembered forever in songs and tales, my lady. I am proud to know you, and proud to be your king." His hand was in her hair, on her face. She was so soft.

And that was how the rift between Elves and Dwarves ended, by the selfless actions of the young Elfling who, until recently, had been sequestered away in Imladris. Thorin and Thranduil would never like each other, but they would also never be enemies again. It was a little bit of needed peace before sixty years would pass and Sauron's evil would once again permeate Middle Earth.

Thranduil did finally get his starlight gems, and he hid them away, saving them just in case someday in the future he could have a second wedding. They would look quite lovely on Linwe, in her ebony hair and resting against her pale flesh.

Linwe was better, having taken a month of rest in her chambers. She had had no idea the spells would have taken so much out of her, but she did not regret performing them. Just the happiness on Bilbo's face was enough to make her feel she had done the right thing. She had to admit, she liked being waited on, especially on the rare occasions that her server of tea was Thranduil himself. She was certain he had never, ever served anyone anything before (except for maybe his wife), and she heard the Silvan Elves sometimes mumbling about how unusual his behavior was.

It made her wonder if, somehow, he could feel the same way about her as she did about him.

Now that she was better, she would go and sometimes help Esgaroth rebuild. Tauriel now lived there, even though Thranduil had lifted her banishment. She preferred staying there, as it was closer to Kili, her Dwarvish lover. Sigrid, Bard's eldest daughter, was being courted very seriously by Fili, and Bard was in a tizzy trying to keep calm about it. The three kingdoms now lived in peace, coexisting easily, all thanks to her.

While the banishment of Sauron to Mordor from Galadriel, Gandalf and Elrond had made things a bit more bearable in Middle Earth, it was far from perfect. Orcs still plundered lands, and Thranduil's army was dispatched many times to their borders to fight a skirmish. The spiders were the only things not as bold, as their lair in Dul Guldur was mostly destroyed.

One early morning Linwe was watching the sunrise when an Elf told her that the king wanted to see her. She went, wondering what he wanted of her.

She found him wearing his circlet and lighter armor than what he had worn when they set off for Erebor. He looked ready to leave.

"Ah. There you are. As you know, I recently put guards at the Western border, to ensure no Orcs would get in that way. Today is my day to review and gather my reports. Usually, I would bring Legolas with me, but as you are here and your father wants you to learn more about our ways, I decided you shall accompany me. I have had your armor laid out in your chambers. Meet me here in a quarter of an hour." As usual, he did not ask, just tell. Thankfully, Linwe knew he did not mean to be rude, this was just his nature.

"Will do, my lord," she replied, secretly glad to be going on a long patrol that would last well over five or six hours. It would give her precious alone time with him. She changed quickly and braided her long hair to keep it out of her face. In moments, she met with Thranduil in the entrance hall, taking a moment to admire his utter perfection, beauty and magnificence. He was so stunning: both physically and in his personality.

"Are you ready, my lady?" he asked her, upon spotting her on the staircase. She nodded and noticed a basket he carried along with his weapons.

"What's that?" she asked.

"Lunch," he replied. "The walk is long, so I brought some vegetables and lembas for us."

They set out on their walk, taking their time. It was summer, and the days were long. The forest kept them cool and sheltered from the sun. They spoke very little, instead enjoying the noises of the forest around them. It was peaceful and calming, despite its current state thanks to Sauron.

It took them a little over three hours to reach the Western border, and the review from the guards was favourable. There had only been two Orc pack sightings in the past month, and they had not seen or heard any spiders.

After giving them some new orders, when he was sending replacement guards for them to get some rest, and Linwe hastily thanking them for their service (something the Elvenking had never even thought of doing), they were able to return back to the kingdom.

"That was surprisingly easy," she commented.

"Usually it is not so smooth," he replied, and like a spell was spoken, they heard a telltale rustling in the trees above them. "Ah. I see we have spoken too soon." Swiftly, his sword was drawn and the food basket was hidden away.

Linwe also drew her sword in one hand and held her dagger in the other. There was never just one spider, she knew that. What she didn't know was if she and Thranduil could take them all on at once or not.

"Are you ready?" he asked her. She nodded. As if they were used to fighting together, they stood back to back, creating a united front against their adversaries. He trusted her skills and she trusted his.

Like a nightmare, spiders came rushing down from their rotted webs, chittering in their weird way and ready to eat the Elves alive. The first two went down easily, and more came to fill their places. Thranduil and Linwe had to break their defensive stance and move in order to fight in a wider space. Spider after spider went down, and Linwe admired the amazing skill Thranduil showed. Idly, even in the middle of such danger, she wondered if he made love as gracefully as he fought.

Half an hour later, they seemed to have killed the last spider, exhausting themselves. Thranduil went to get some of his knives out of the spider corpses when Linwe heard the telltale noise of a spider on a web. She saw it before he did, and a good thing: it was heading right for him, it's maw wide open and ready to bite. While she knew the spiders didn't kill outright, but instead they poisoned first, liking to play with their victims before they ate them, she could not bear to let her king be hurt. As long as she wore the insignia of the Woodland Realm on her armor, she would protect her king at all costs.

She took a running dive and came between Thranduil and the Ungoliant spawn with not even a second to spare. She felt the bite in her shoulder, heard Thranduil call her name and then...nothing.

Thranduil felt the spider behind him too late, and as he turned to take care of it, he saw his beloved Linwe jump between him and the spider, getting herself bitten in the process. He could have sworn his heart stopped in that moment, thinking that she was dead, until he remembered the spiders didn't kill and the poison wore off after a while.

He was still incensed that he had let Linwe get hurt. He had promised to protect her! With an angry cry he sliced the spider nearly in half. He did not even clean his sword as he sheathed it; he was too worried about Linwe. He bent over her, checking her vitals. Her breathing was shallow and her pulse was low. Otherwise he was sure she'd be okay in an hour or so.

It was still a two hour walk to the kingdom, and he could not carry her. Instead, he picked up their picnic basket and held her in his arms while he searched for a place to sit and wait for her to wake. He found a clearing where the sun actually fit through the tree tops, warming his skin.

He sat down at the base of a large tree, gently cradling Linwe's head in his lap. Now that he was a bit calmer, he could breathe again and he again checked her vitals. She was okay. Her dark eyes were closed, and if it wasn't for the dark circles beneath them, he would think she was asleep. Without thinking, he gently unwound her braid, letting her dark hair flow over his lap in a soft, velvety wave. He ran his fingers through it, massaging her scalp and unknotting the waves in the strands.

She was beautiful, and so brave. No other warrior would have done what she had for him. She had risked her life for him and had done so without a second thought. She was his hero, and he owed her everything. If he had not loved her before, he really did now. Bravery was a rare quality in females in that era of Middle Earth, and for her to have shown such selflessness was unheard of. He knew she'd be remembered for centuries to come, even long after the time of the Elves had passed, thanks to what she did for the line of Durin and what she had just done now.

The sunlight lit up her fair face, making her glow in the light of the brightest star. His hands caressed hers, which he'd placed on her stomach for comfort. Hers were so much smaller than his. He traced her face, feeling the softness of her skin. Her lips, plump and sweet, were also soft to his touch. His hand stroked her forehead in a soothing rhythm, while the other hand kept caressing her face and lips. Not in two thousand years had he felt such love in his heart, and yet he could not voice it. He had to keep it locked away, lest he shame himself and his kingdom. He wanted her-not just her body but her heart as well. He did not want to send her back to Imladris when the time came.

He wanted her at his side, forever.

He gently lifted her head from his lap and held her reclining in his arms. She was not a small Elf, but compared to him she was little more than a doll. Without thinking, he bent his face down to hers and tasted her lips for the first time, blushing as he did. It was brash and a little disappointing that she could not kiss him back. Her lips were as soft as he had expected, and he wished this moment would never end. He held her tightly to him, closing his eyes and just being there, willing her to wake up and somehow just know, and let everything happen as it should. He knew that was complete nonsense, but it was what he wished.

"Amin mela lle," he whispered.

After a few more moments, he felt her begin to stir and he laid her back into his lap and watched as she languidly opened her pretty, dark eyes. He was relieved to see that she didn't look as if she had been poisoned. It seemed to have gone from her system.

She stretched and looked up, blinking to clear her eyes. "You're all right," she said when she saw him. Her smile could have lit up all of Middle Earth it was so bright.

Hastily, he removed his hand from her hair, where it had been resting, and tried to assume a stern expression, but it was difficult. "What you did, Linwe, was reckless and worrisome. Don't ever frighten me like that again!"

She smiled wider and he helped her to sit up. Her hand went to his face, carefully avoiding where she knew his scar was. Her touch was electric and sent a shiver down his spine. "I do not regret what I did, and if you were ever in danger like that again, I would not hesitate to do it again. You can punish me, but know it won't do any good." She scooted back, giving a more proper space between them.

He couldn't help but smile. "I do not wish to punish you. I do thank you, however. What you did was brave and very selfless. It is appreciated."

She bowed her head, a blush warming her cheeks.

"Come. Let us eat something before we continue the walk home." He began to lay out the provisions he had brought, including a bottle of Dorwinion wine!

She laughed as he poured her a glass. "I cannot believe you brought along alcohol." He gave a rueful smile, tucking some hair behind his ear. It was a cute gesture.

They ate and had abstract conversation, avoiding anything to do with spiders and illness. Instead, she learned a lot about the forest, and he told her some tales of when he was an Elfling and would play in the trees, happy by himself and with the small animals.

Sitting next to her was comfortable and familiar. It let his tongue flow more loosely and relaxed him so he did not feel as if he needed to be the guarded king he had always been. He felt as if he were young again.

Her hand somehow made its way over to his, gently resting atop it, filling him with warmth. If she loved him-and that was a big if-what could they do? Could they ever be together.

Linwe moved as he was thinking, sitting so they were nearly face to face, with no space between them. "Amin merna quen," she said, "but I do not have the proper words. I do not believe there are any words for what I am feeling."

His hand held hers, and he was hoping against hope that she was feeling as he was, because right then his heart was full to bursting. "The strongest emotions need no words."

"Then how should I express them?" she asked; her eyes hopeful, dark pools that he wished to drown in.

"In whatever way feels right," he replied, his fingers caressing hers.

She hesitated before saying, "I am afraid if I do what feels right you will hate me, my lord. And I could not bear not to be in your favour. I could not have you send me back to Adar."

"I would never. You have my word," he said, holding his hand over his heart. Instead of returning the gesture, the Elvish hug, she took her hand and put it over his as she leaned into him. He smelled her sweet scent as she inclined her head to his and he got to truly taste her lips.

His arms immediately encircled her, holding her to him. She was seated between his legs now, as close as clothing allowed, as he began to deepen the kiss. He ran his tongue across her lips, asking for permission to enter. She opened her mouth against his, and his tongue invaded the warmth. She gasped into his kiss as he gently bit her bottom lip. He could barely contain himself as he felt his pants tightening around him. He tugged on her hair, moving her neck higher so he could gently bite and suck dark bruises into her skin. Her gasps and moans were like torture and he captured her lips again so he did not have to hear them.

His breath was coming in short gasps now and his heart was racing.

She was soft, warm and receptive to his advances, inappropriate though they were. This moment was perfect, and he wished to stop time and remain there forever, with her in his arms.

But time is a fickle mistress, and eventually they did have to part. He looked her over, her hair askew, her lips swollen and her neck beginning to bruise. She was perfect in every way, and he desired to claim her properly.

"My lord…" She trailed off.

He caught her chin in his hand. "I want you to know I will do whatever is in my power to make this work, forbidden or not. It might take some time, but Linwe, I swear, I will have you."

She closed her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips. "I believe you."

"We need to get back. Night is falling." He helped her up, stealing another kiss as he did so. They kept their hands linked as they walked home, unable to stand not touching after standing so far apart on purpose for so long.

It would be difficult, but he'd find a way to make her his queen. He would not live without her at his side.

As they approached the front gates of the Woodland Realm, however, Fate had come to meddle in their affairs in the form or Lindir.

"Lord Thranduil, Lady Linwe-Elrond requests your presence in Imladris. The Prince as well."


	10. Chapter 10

Linwe and Thranduil saw Lindir before he saw them and quickly unlaced their clasped hands. Had he seen them, he would've been shocked and probably have told Elrond.

"What does Adar want from us?" Linwe asked, not bothering with politeness.

"He did not say, my lady," Lindir said. "He just said he needed to see you all immediately."

"Well, Legolas is not a part of my court any longer. He is traveling, on a mission," Thranduil explained. "If his presence is needed 'immediately', it is not possible. It would take months before we could get him back here. If he wants 'immediately', he will have to settle for the two of us."

"Very well." Lindir bowed. "I will tell Lord Elrond to be expecting the both of you. Shall I say you will set off tomorrow? That you will arrive a day after me?"

Thranduil looked at Linwe and asked, "Is that all right with you?"

She nodded, pleased that he had asked her opinion on the matter. He still respected her as a person, even after being so intimate with her.

"Fine, Lindir. We will be there." They bowed in courtesy and Lindir took his leave. Thranduil sighed. "I hope it's not a White Council meeting. I was very content with not having to attend that regular nightmarish gathering of fools."

Linwe smiled up at him. "If it was the White Council, he would not have asked for Legolas, nor myself. We are beneath that privilege in his eyes."

Thranduil looked down at her and said, "Then that just proves what a fool he is, not knowing what a treasure he has found in you." He glanced towards the entrance and saw no one within hearing distance before he continued. "Linwe, you know that an Elf cannot remarry. It is forbidden. What we have is forbidden. So until I can find a satisfactory way around the Elven Code, we must refrain from ever expressing anything but mutual respect towards one another in public. Do you understand?"

Linwe nodded. She was upset, but she understood. They would both be shamed were they to go public with their...whatever this was. She believed that Thranduil would find a loophole in the Code, and she was patient. For him, she'd wait an eternity.

They packed clothing for a month (they did not know how long they'd have to stay in Imladris) and provisions for the four day journey. Thankfully they would not need tents, as they did not need to sleep during that time.

They spent the first day in silence. Elves are not talkative, and it is not unusual for them to utter only a few sentences in the space of a week. The second day, Linwe started thinking, and the progress of her thoughts worried her.

"What if he wants me to come back?" she asked abruptly.

Thranduil looked up from the butterfly that had landed on his hand and said, "What do you mean?"

"What if Adar wants me to come back to Imladris? What if this was just to tell you thank you and then I will never see you again?" she asked. "I don't feel like that place is home anymore. I do not wish to leave the Woodland Realm."

"Then I will tell lies about you. I will say I have much more to teach you before you are fit to return to his lands," Thranduil said easily, as if lying to his contemporary and Elder was an everyday event for him.

"You should not have to do that for me," Linwe said quietly. "It could get you into trouble."

Thranduil gave an elegant shrug. "I will do what I have to. Come. The horses have rested enough and we should be going."

They had not even come within two feet of each other since they saw Lindir. Linwe wasn't sure of Thranduil's reasons, but she had been unsettled by the Elf's appearance with the summons. She couldn't risk getting any closer to Thranduil in case she was ordered back to Rivendell. She hoped his reasons were similar, and he wasn't having second thoughts about his feelings for her.

They approached Imladris after maneuvering around the Hidden Pass, thankfully without Orcish incident. The sight of the Hidden Valley was always beautiful and breathtaking, but this time it filled both Elves with dread for what was to come.

Lindir greeted them at the gates, but Elrond was not far behind, giving Linwe the Elven hug and saying, "Vedui', Linwe. Nae saian luume'."

Not long enough, she thought, returning his gesture.

He turned to Thranduil, "'Quel andune, Haran Thranduil."

"Mae govannen," Thranduil replied. "I am sorry Legolas could not make it, but I am sure Lindir explained the situation to you."

"Yes, he did. We recently sent the boy, Aragorn, with the Rangers, despite his young age. Perhaps they will meet," Elrond mused. "Aside, as a rule, he does not need to be here at the moment: only you and my daughter. But before we get into any of that, please go and rest. I have a feast setting up as we speak. Linwe, you know the way to the guest halls; you may show Thranduil to a room."

She bowed her head. "Yes, Adar." She motioned and a servant followed them with their bags till they reached a large and sumptuously furnished room. "This would be the nicest room we have here, aside from Adar's," she said. "Mine is down the way, curtained off with black velvet. It is the only one with that color, so should you need to seek me out, you will not mistakenly go into another room."

Thranduil bowed his own head in acknowledgement. "It is obvious that you are not comfortable here. Were you ever?"

She shook her head. "My brothers, while they are regaled as heroes, are not exactly the nicest towards me. Arwen...she is much preoccupied with her own affairs to bother very much with me. We will have to deal with all of them soon enough."

Linwe left him then, going to rest her mind. She had a nagging feeling that, what Elrond was going to say was going to be borderline catastrophic for her. She hoped she was wrong.

Thranduil had not been to Imladris for centuries, and it had not changed. Only now there were no little Elflings playing in the fountain, or dignitaries coming and going. It was quieter, and had none of the busyness of Mirkwood. While the atmosphere was relaxing, he was starting to feel acutely homesick.

He donned nice clothing for dinner and when he got to the great hall, he saw Linwe already seated, looking very uncomfortable indeed. It did not, however, take away from her beauty. Her porcelain skin was offset by her black velvet gown and silver and ruby circlet, and her hair was in a beautiful and complicated plait. Her two brothers, Elladan and Elrohir, were laughing and jostling each other, presumably at her expense. Thranduil could not hear what they were saying, but whatever it was, Linwe was not enjoying it.

Arwen was sitting silently next to her, her face contorted with worry, probably about the Elessar. Thranduil had liked her as a child, and she seemed to have grown into a fine young lady. Quiet and almost sickly looking, but still, she seemed sweet.

Elrond was consulting the musicians about dinner music, unaware his children were even in the room at that moment. Ignorant dolt, Thranduil thought and then approached the table. Linwe visibly lit up when she saw him and gestured to the seat next to her, to the right of Elrond. It had been reserved for him by her, as that was her usual seat.

He said hello to the children, and Elrohir, the louder and more open of the twins, said, "It's been forever since we've seen you. You look far too grand for these halls."

"I suppose I will take that as a compliment," he murmured.

"We were just asking Linwe about your kingdom," Elladan began.

"And your son," Elrohir finished jokingly.

Thranduil knew what the twin was referring to, and while it was inappropriate to scold another person's children, he could not help it. "I can't say I approve of your suggesting that anything untoward happened between Linwe and Legolas. As heirs yourselves, you should know better."

Both boys' bowed their heads and said, "Amin hiraetha."

You had better be sorry, he thought as Elrond seated himself.

"Linwe, tell us what you've been doing in the Woodland Realm? I have received communication from Thranduil and he says you have been a joy to have around," Elrond said.

Thranduil watched as her fair face turned pink at the compliment. He wanted to reach over and kiss her and really make her blush.

"I enjoy being there. Everyone is quite nice, I visit Esgaroth often, and you remember I helped with the Consort's wedding to King Thorin in Erebor. It is an active life, but I find it suits me," she said.

"I pray Thranduil has treated you accordingly. I see you did arrive with weapons," Elrond said in a very disapproving tone.

Thranduil held his hand up, stopping Elrond from going further. "I require all in my kingdom to be armed. Even my apothecaries. Your daughter, be she a Lady or not, is no exception while she is in my halls. It is not just for protection, either. It helps build confidence and skills. While I loathe the thought of battle, all Elves should be prepared were war to come."

"I see." Elrond looked a bit peeved at that, but Thranduil let it go. It was his kingdom, and he was free to run it as he pleased.

"I enjoy my time there in the Woodland Realm. I was hesitant when you first sent me, but as time passed I have really come to feel at home there," Linwe added.

Elrond smiled. "I am pleased to hear that. Do you and Legolas get along?"

She nodded. "Ro naa curucuar, ar' mellon-nin. We would compete, along with Tauriel, while she was training me."

"Who won?" Elladan asked.

"We would usually come to a stalemate, Legolas and I," Linwe said. "I am glad he has found a good mission to follow, but it was nice having companions. Tauriel is living in Esgaroth. So now I get to spend more time with this one." She nodded to Thranduil with a playful smile.

Elrond smiled as well. "I am glad to see you enjoy it there. It is what I hoped, that you would feel at home."

Thranduil felt odd at that statement. There was more to what Elrond was saying, and he wasn't sure he wanted to hear it. Something was wrong with this whole picture: he had thought so even as he had agreed to let Linwe stay in the Woodland Realm in the first place. He had at first thought Elrond was dumping his more difficult child on Thranduil's doorstep for a discipline lesson, but that was obviously not the case. So what was the real reason for him to send his daughter and rightful heir to his realm? He hated being in the dark about important matters such as that.

Dinner ended and Thranduil brought out the bottle of Dorwinion he had brought as a gift (the wine was so fine and expensive, Elrond rarely drank it himself). Elladan, Elrohir and Arwen left, declining the wine.

So this is it, Thranduil thought, pouring Linwe's wine. This is why we were really called here. I swear, I will not let him take Linwe from me if that is what he plans!

"Thranduil, I want to thank you for accepting my invitation to send my daughter to you," Elrond began. "I am sure it was no picnic taking in a sullen Elfling younger than your own son."

"Well, Adar, do not mince your words on my account," LInwe said sarcastically.

"Linwe might be a bit on the dour side, but she never gave me a problem," Thranduil said. "As I have told you, she is a joy to have in my kingdom. She still has much to learn, however."

"I am sure she does," Elrond agreed. "But that is not exactly why I sent her to you. I said it was to promote relations between the kingdoms, and that is true. It was because of a vision I had had of her...and of Legolas."

"Legolas?" Thranduil asked. "What about Legolas?"

"The night before I sent Lindir to you with my message, I saw Linwe's future, very clearly. I saw her wedding."

Thranduil felt his heart pound. This could go very well, or very terribly. He was sure now it was going to go terribly wrong. He wanted nothing more than to whisk Linwe away to somewhere else, somewhere where he was not a king and she was not the daughter of a Lord. Where they could simply be just two Elves in love.

"Adar...what exactly did you see?" Linwe asked, her voice shaking.

"I saw you in the Woodland Realm...marrying Legolas."

Thranduil had heard many awkward silences in his long life, but never had the tension been so thick he could practically see it. Legolas and Linwe? No. Never.

Linwe's face was drained of all color. In fact, she looked quite ill. "Adar, I assure you, you must have misinterpreted your dream. I do not love Legolas, and he certainly does not love me. Perhaps it was not him I was marrying."

Elrond shook his head. "No one else has his hair color and type who is eligible for you to marry. It could only be Legolas."

Thranduil wanted to slap Elrond in back of the head and say, "It's me, you fool! You saw her marrying me!" But how could he say that? How could he reveal what they felt for each other when it was forbidden to remarry? If he said anything, he could get Linwe in trouble as well.

"I asked Legolas to be here, though he does not need to be, out of courtesy. All I need is your approval, Thranduil," Elrond went on.

"Excuse me?" Linwe said. "You mean to tell me that Legolas and I do not have a say in this? Because you saw it in a vision it must be so? I am not cattle, Adar. You cannot sell me off as if I were your possession. I am a living, breathing Elf and I will not be treated as anything less!"

"Calm down, Linwe," Elrond admonished. "You know for a fact what the Elven Code is, and what it allows and does not allow. Our visions are sacred and never wrong."

Thranduil could see Linwe shaking with anger. It was all he could do to not lash out as well. "Elrond, you cannot expect me to agree to marry off our children when Linwe obviously does not want it. I am sure Legolas will not, either. Do you not remember what it was like to be young and in love? I do. I remember first setting eyes on Celeblasbes. I would not have given her up, even if Oropher had ordered me otherwise. You loved Celebrian with all your heart. Will you deny your daughter the opportunity to find that same love?"

Elrond's dark blue eyes darkened even more. "Yes, if it were for the good of my people, I would have given up Celebrian. Our kingdoms will benefit from being united."

"And they say I am the one who has no heart!" Thranduil snapped. "What will you do if I refuse to allow Legolas to marry Linwe?"

"Then that would mean you find my daughter unworthy of your son and your name. That would cause a permanent rift between our kingdoms; possibly war," he replied, as if it meant nothing to him.

"Linwe is more than worthy of my name, of being the Elvenqueen," Thranduil said, his voice so low and so serious it scared even himself. "But she should only marry for love, not for politics. She is not a thing, as she said. She is not a pawn in some bigger scheme from you or the Valar!"

Linwe stood up, tears in her eyes, "Elrond, I refuse to marry if not for love! I have no place in my heart for your silly visions or games. If you cannot accept that and continue to insist I do something I do not wish, you can rest assured I will never set foot in this place ever again." She left the table then, her sobs unable to be contained any longer. Thranduil wanted to run after her, to hug her, hold her and promise it would all be okay. First, he had to deal with Elrond.

"How could you? If I am to believe what she has told me, you know as little about her as you do about Legolas! You have never given her the time of day. She is not a game piece: you move here where you see her being most convenient for your gain. I cannot, in good conscience, agree to this. She has free will, as we all do."

"Thranduil, do not be a fool!" Elrond said. "The Elven Code says, if a vision is seen, it must come true!"

"You would put the Code before your own child?" Thranduil asked, unable to believe Elrond could be that cruel.

"Yes."

Thranduil pushed back the wish to throw that bottle of wine in Elrond's face. "You would really start a civil war between us over this? Over the fact that I care more for your daughter's well being than you do?"

"It is for her well-being that I do this!" Elrond said. "And yes, I would. You curse the Code and beg me to break tradition for love? Love does not win battles and keep kingdoms safe."

"I repeat: you have no heart, Elrond Peredhil. You might gain a political ally from this, but you not only lose a friend, you lose your daughter, too. Is that what you want?" Thranduil asked.

"What I want does not matter. It is what we need."

"And if I were to tell you your vision was wrong? That it was not Legolas you saw?" he wondered.

Elrond scoffed. "It could only be Legolas. Unless, of course, you would break the law and remarry, bringing shame on, not just your kingdom, but on Lady Linwe as well."

Thranduil stood and said, "So be it. You have proven yourself to be completely insensitive and cruel. Linwe and I will be leaving tomorrow. Know that I am highly disappointed in you."

"It is not your favor I look for, but the Valar's."

"As if the Valar would ever think that tradition and honor would be more important than love. Love might not win wars, but it certainly feels better on the soul than this. You ought to be ashamed of yourself. And if the Valar agree with you, they should be ashamed as well."

Linwe could not believe what she had just heard. Legolas? He wanted her to marry Legolas? Never. Never, not as long as she lived would she marry an Elf she did not love! Marriage shouldn't be about politics or what their belief system says is right. It should be about one thing: love. There's no room for argument: love should be the ONLY reason for marriage. Of course, the Elven Code, the Valar, would disagree.

She dashed into her chambers, hot tears scalding her eyes. She did not want to cry, but she had no choice. She was hurt, depressed and felt like all the wind had been knocked out of her. Her limbs were trembling and her heart was pounding.

She loved Thranduil, and she was fairly certain he loved her as well. But love did not change laws. She knew Thranduil would have no choice but to agree, lest he start a civil war. And she could never live with herself if that happened because of her.

Love should not hurt this much, she thought. Damn him, damn him! How dare he order me to do this? How dare he take away my chance at happiness? Her sobs were unable to be held back and, though Elves do not get angry often, her anger was uncontrollable. She knocked things from her dressing table in her rage, wishing it was her father's head.

Now she and Thranduil could never be together, and she was almost guaranteed to have a miserable life for centuries. She took the heavy glass paperweight she had been given some time ago and threw it, but she did not hear the satisfying shattering of glass as it hit the wall. She turned to see what had happened and spotted a dour-faced Thranduil in her doorway, holding the paperweight in his hands. He placed it on a shelf and just in time, as Linwe rushed straight into his embrace, crying on his shoulder.

"Why?" she asked him, her voice cracking with just that one word. "How could he do this? Thranduil, please...do something." She hated begging, but she was so desperate.

"I'm so sorry, melamin," he whispered, his arms holding her and his voluminous robes enveloping her small frame. "I wish I could do something, but I cannot change the Elven laws. Amin hiraetha."

She sniffled and buried her face into his chest. "It is not you who should be apologizing. Thranduil, can't you tell him? Can't you say that his vision was wrong?"

"I tried," he replied. "He belittled me, saying I would shame you if I ever came forth with...how I feel about you."

She looked up at him, her dark eyes red from crying. "It does not shame me to have you care for me. It shames me to be involved in a loveless union!"

His arms came around her tighter, and she felt his heart through his clothes, beating as fast as hers. "I want to take you away from here; away from all of this. Linwe, by the Valar, if I could I would leave with you and never return."

"I wish we could," she said. "My home is where you are."

He lifted her face to his and said, "I promise, if I find a way out of this I will make this right."

"I do not care for titles or kingdoms or any of that. I only want you," she admitted.

That was the most candor he had ever been shown, and she had ever given. He had no words for a response. He simply kissed her, claiming her lips and her heart. He was not good with emotions, he had not really felt any for two thousand years. She had awakened him, and he had awakened her. How could he give her up when she did not want to be given?

"I cannot bear to lose you," he said.

"You will not lose me. You will never lose me. Legolas may have my hand in marriage, but he will never have my heart. That will always belong to you, Heruamin...melamin," she said.

Thranduil let her go and looked at her from arm's length. She was so strong, so beautiful and so determined. He wanted her more than ever.

"Linwe, we cannot do this anymore. Any of it. To show affection like this would make you be ostracized from our race, and I cannot see as pure a soul as yours be shamed because of me," he said.

That hit her straight in the heart. "Thranduil, I cannot-"

He held up a hand to silence her. "You can, Linwe. For your own good, you must. I want you to always remember this: no matter how many centuries pass...my feelings will never change. I love you, Linwe Helyanwe. And I always will. I want nothing more than to see you flourish as you should."

"I know what you do, you do for my benefit. I just...I suppose I just want what I cannot have," she sighed.

Thranduil pulled her close for the last time, his voice on her ear making her shiver. "Forbidden fruit has always been the sweetest, a'maelamin."

He left the room then, never unlocking his eyes from hers till he was too far away to see her any longer.


End file.
